


Feathers and chains.

by Diorionn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But it's okay, Dean on the other hand is totally shipping something else, Fantasy AU, I think it's safe to say that Micha ships it to, M/M, Sam and Dean are slaves, Slavery AU, Sorry About That..., also, because you know, but honestly, its all consenual, slowburn, there's a smidgeon of dub/con due to slavery, we're 20k words in and theres still no sexy times..., you'll have to read to find out what though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diorionn/pseuds/Diorionn
Summary: Sam and Dean were screwed, and not in a good way. They had survived years in the Wild only to be caught by slavers trying to free the innocent. As if that wasn't bad enough, they are dragged half way across the world and sold to the meanest son of a bitch there is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is a new story... and a bit different to the last one. It's going to be a slow burn and to be honest, I don't know what the final outcome is going to be, it might be one ship or it might be both... I guess we just have to wait and see.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and if I've missed any tags that you think I need, please let me know. :)

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Brother, you can shout and rage at me as much as you need to, but it will not change the facts. Your wing is broken, it will take at least two months before it heals and even then you will need to rebuild your strength and your muscles. You, brother, are earthbound. I suggest you find some help and entertainment, because I do not plan on babysitting you. I should also warn you, the fracture has broken the skin and unsettled your feathers. It is rather likely you will have to endure a moult sooner rather than later.”

Raphael stepped smoothly to one side, dodging the vase that went flying by their head. Raphael was used to their brother’s tantrums. All three of them took different forms, but each was equally dramatic.

“If you are quite finished, I have work to do.”

Raphael rolled their shoulders back, the huge grey and black dappled wings stretching behind them as they turned. A single practice flap and then they were stepping through the huge double doors and into nothing. 

Wings spread, feathers catching the air and then they were soaring into the setting sun with elegant lazy flaps, leaving their brother to his temper tantrum.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean bared his teeth, growling darkly at the Daemon walking past. He knew realistically he probably looked more rabid than anything else, but it didn’t matter. Of all the four Dark-species, Daemons were the worst. They were all cruel by nature, revealing in the suffering of others. Many became slavers or slave masters, tortures and jailors or mercenaries in other people’s wars. These days they mostly worked for the other species having already destroyed their own realm beyond repair.

Sam sighed next to him, his chains clanking in an unhappy reminder or just how powerless they were. “Knock it off Dee. All you will achieve is yet another bloody nose.” Sam’s words were heavy with the exhaustion he felt and Dean couldn’t help but feel guilty for adding to it. 

The sounds of the camp were slowly dying down as the tired slaves settled to sleep, and weary masters retired to their private wagons. The camp was never silent though. There were always the whimpers and sobs of the doomed cut through by the screams of the chosen. As if to reinforce Dean’s thoughts a sharp scream cut through the heavy autumn air, only to be quickly silenced. 

“I think we reach a market tomorrow.” Dean kept his voice pitched low so as not to draw attention, it seldom worked, but it was worth a try. 

Sam looked around sharply, the movement accompanied by the clanking of his chains, “Are you sure?”

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, why?”

“Shit! Dean we are near the Angel lands! Those mountains there are the Dentes Infernum! You know what that means!” Sam’s eyes were wide, pleading for Dean to understand what Sam clearly already did. At Dean’s continued blank face he snapped, hissing. “This is Baratrum lands, Dean. I don’t know the nearest city, but it will belong to Baratrum!”

Dean couldn’t help the broken laugh that escaped as he let his head thump back against the wooden boards of the wagon they were chained to. He might not know as much as Sam did, but even Dean knew what that meant. 

The world was split into the four realms ruled by the four Dark-species. Each of those realms was then split in turn, divided depending on the nature of their owners. 

The Lupinotuum lands were broken into several packs of varying size. They fought constantly and fiercely, challenging each other for the best hunting grounds. They abhorred strangers, would kill anyone who trespassed and the boundaries of the pack lands changed as often as the weather did.

By contrast the Lamia lands were occupied by three grand clans. Theirs was a hierarchical society, where prestige and pedigree were everything. They welcomed wanderers, the more the better, after all, everyone was prey to the elite, and you could never have too much prey. 

The Daemons however were mostly solitary. Consumed by greed and lust they would occasionally team up to gain power, but they quickly betrayed each other and no alliance lasted for long. Their desire for pain and chaos simply didn’t allow for happily ever after. 

Despite the many known evils of the other three Dark-species, at least they were known. It was the Angel who was feared the most. They were a secretive and protective species, often choosing to ignore the suffering of those under their noses only to suddenly join a war on the other side of the world. 

Dean had never met an Angel, he didn’t know any human who had and he didn’t believe the stories of the other species who claimed they had. The whispers in dark corners spoke of four quarters and four lords, the rumours about each were many and changeable, often conflicting, but the one thing that everyone agreed on however was that Baratrum was not a safe place to be a human. The king, who ruled those lands was said to favour Daemon and loath the humans. He would buy slaves and force them to kill each other for his entertainment. He would eat their raw flesh while they watched and bath in their blood. 

Even if you only believe one rumour in five, it’s still a terrifying prospect. The odds were in favour of Sam being okay. He had learning, a good temperament, was strong but relatively docile. Sam would make a good slave. Dean on the other hand, he was as thick as two short planks and known for violence. He was always at the centre of any trouble and was good for nothing but hard labour. Dean was the sort of slave someone would love to torture for the entertainment of others. 

“We have to run Dean. Tonight. I know we wanted to wait for a better opportunity, but I think this might be out last chance.”

“Shut your trap slave!” The harsh words were accompanied by the sharp crack of a whip and a blossoming red welt on Sam’s left cheek. The younger brother stiffened, muscles going tight with rage even as he dropped his eyes and apologies to the Daemon. It was only because Dean knew his brother as well as he did that he could hear the hatred in his words. The Daemon continued to glare a moment longer, before grunting, soulless black eyes flashing in the dim light cast by scattered torches. 

“Poor little slaves. Enjoy your last night of luxury, you’ll miss us tomorrow, don’t you worry. Just wait and see.” The Daemon cackled as he turned and walked away. On Dean’s other side, the small boy began to sob helplessly. 

Dean didn’t know his name. He was the sixth slave to be stuck net to him. He learnt after the third that they didn’t last long. The slave caravan was not kind on the slaves. Economically speaking, they made no sense, but then Daemons were as known for their lack of intelligence as they were for their cruelty, so it wasn’t really that surprising. 

Neither brother spoke into the heavy silence. There was nothing to say and nothing they could do. They both knew escape was impossible. Even if they somehow got out of the chains which bound them, snuck through the camp of damned souls, Daemons and Hellhounds, managed to pass the vicious ghouls which haunted the edge, eating the corpses, and actually made it into the wilderness... There was nowhere for them to go. They would still be in Angel lands, half mountain, and half forest at the end of autumn. The seasons changed rapidly in these lands, in two weeks there will be at least a foot of snow on the ground. 

No, whatever fate awaited them, they were safer with the Angel than alone. All they had to do was survive the winter together, take their time, and plan a real escape. They would bring any other slaves they found with them; maybe together they would stand a chance of living free once more. 

That was the dream and that’s what Dean was going to cling to like lichen to a rock. To lose hope was to die. When you are nothing more than meat for sale, and don’t even own the clothes on your back, than all you have are your thoughts and your hopes. When the hopes leave, the thoughts are rarely far behind.

The acrid smell of urine joined the already pungent camp smell and Dean glanced at the small boy next to him. He groaned in annoyance, another pisser, just what he needed. The sobs had faded as the child tired himself out crying. He was snuggled against Dean’s side, but whether for comfort, warmth or a false sense that Dean could protect him, he didn’t know. Either way, Dean didn’t have the heart to send him away. 

Sam settled next to him, nudging their shoulders together, as close to comfort as two adult men raised in the Wild by a Hunter could get. Dean gave him an elbow back, acknowledgement and reassurance all in one.

~*~*~*~*~ 

“My king, my liege. Perhaps I have an answer to your ill mood. The slave market will arrive at Gehenna tomorrow night, I have heard whispers there is something special there. Please, allow me to attend on your behalf sire. I promise I will not disappoint.”

The Angel lord stood gazing out on the mountains. His back as straight and stiff as a board, the magnificent wings in their shades of a blood red dawn, caught the fading sun’s rays and appeared to gleam with a light all of their own. Even the crisp white bandages wrapped around the high arch of the right did nothing to detract from their beauty.

The Daemon felt the overwhelming urge to fall to his knees and worship such perfection. The angel did not reply or acknowledge the Daemon’s request. He rarely did. A cold and brooding figure that often appeared more to haunt the palace than truly live there. 

“Sire?”

“Do as you will Azazel. I do not care.”

“Yes sire. You won’t be disappointed.”

The Daemon snapped a sharp salute which he then swept into an elegant bow to the Angel’ back before slowly backing from the room. Nothing had been broken or thrown. That was a successful visit in Azazel’s books.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam woke with a jolt, his instincts kicking in three seconds before the bucket of ice cold water was thrown on him. He spluttered and coughed alongside everyone else in their line, accidently inhaling some of the water as he came awake.

“Rise and shine my sweet little cattle! Its market day today, are we all excited?” The black eyed Daemon was cackling at their misery. She wore warm looking fur lined leathers and strong winter boots, she would probably be spending the day riding on a wagon. The slaves on the other hand, wore what they had been caught in, for some like Sam and Dean that meant their hunting leathers and winter gear, for others it meant thin homespun sleep clothes. Either way, the slaves still had a long day of walking and hauling the wagons in the heavy damp late autumn air, a job they would now be doing soaking wet. 

The camp of damned souls (Dean’s name for it, but Sam had to agree, it fit remarkably well) had become even noisier than normal, the cries of pain and distress mixing with shouts of anger from the other slave pens as they were all woken. It was a horrible way to wake up, and while Sam guessed the intention was to make them a little cleaner in preparation for sale day, Sam felt far from clean. 

He sighed, shaking his wet hair out of his face as he stretched the best he could in his chains. There was a painful crick in his neck and his back ached, a sure sign he had slept in an awkward position, although aches and pains were also just a side effect of slavery, along with the bruises, welts and strained muscles. Next to him Dean was also trying to stretch, the clanking of chains adding to the cacophony of the awaking camp.

One of the many Daemons with his leashed dog approached. The hell hound was an easy 70 kilo beast, his shoulder sitting level with the Daemons hip, thick black fur making him look more like a bear than a dog and the glowing yellow eyes fixed on the slaves. The Daemon held a bullwhip loose and open at his side, this was a man who could and would use the weapon at the slightest provocation, and possibly at no provocation at all. Sam hated those Daemons the most, it didn’t matter if you co-operated or not, the whip would find you either way. No matter what you did, you could always do it faster and quieter. 

The Daemon stopped in front of the chained slaves and cracked his whip, “Listen animals. You will stand, you will relieve yourselves, and then you will assume you’re positions. Anyone talking will be punished. Anyone dawdling will be punished and anyone not in position in two minutes will... be... punished.”

He surveyed the slaves with a slimy superior look, waiting for acknowledgments which would of course be punished. Of everything the Daemons did, Sam despised the petty power plays the most. The constant need to prove how weak you were in comparison to them, how helpless and hopeless your position is. 

When no one fell for his trap, he cracked the whip at the nearest slave and pulled the release peg, beady black eyes glaring in irritation at the silent slaves with their averted eyes. 

Sam and Dean were old hands at this game; they had both been on the slave caravan for almost three weeks, practically unheard of. A lot of humans died long before now. The Daemons also bought and sold them at every town, village or grand house they passed. 

When your currency is misery, a fortune is never far from hand. In retrospect, the fact that neither Sam nor Dean had been sold or even offered for sale, should have set alarm bells ringing, but they always say hindsight is perfect clarity. 

The two brothers stood, relieving themselves and finding their place at the wagon yoke. They both used the spare time to stretch and warm up cold and stiff muscles. They had been fit and healthy when they were caught and enslaved. Neither man had lost their form, except of course for any excess fat. They were nothing but lean taunt muscles now. 

Sam couldn’t help but dread the end of the day. They had been kept back for a reason, and by nightfall they would know why. Sam just hoped they got sold together, and maybe a bath... and some fresh clothes. For all that his leathers were warm and mostly comfortable; the leather was also stiff with dirt and grime, cracking due to neglect. Dean’s jacket was ripped from the fight that got them caught and Sam’s trousers had a hole in the thigh for the same reason.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, work has been hard going and very emotional over the last week, so I haven't had much drive to write and when I have I've been writing mostly angst rather than this story which despite the slavery and everything else, isn't particularly angsty... who woulda guessed. 
> 
> I'm also trying to decide if I should join the samifer big bang or not, I have a story that I've been writing that would work for that, but I don't enjoy writing so much if there's a deadline... choices choices. 
> 
> Either way, let me know if this chapter doesn't make much sense, I wrote it in the wrong order in my notebook so I've kind of been skipping around a little as I typed up so I don't know how well it flowed onto the page...

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean growled again, lunging and straining at the limit of his chains towards the jeering crowd. Most of them looked to be daemons, but he could also spot the odd lamia and lupinotuum. Despite the fact that they were theoretically within angel lands, there wasn’t a single angel in the crowds.

The whip was a streak of fire on his shoulders but he didn’t stop fighting, simply returning to the ‘ready’ pose, getting his balance and waiting for the next asshole dumb enough to try and touch him. 

He had lost Sam, didn’t know where he had gone. It was a bad sign. Dean was angry and worried, he thought he could survive this, thought he could bide his time, wait for his chance, but if he wasn’t with Sammy... 

At dusk they had arrived at the huge wooden gates set in walls of stone and iron. The town was a chaotic sprawl of derelict and tumbling buildings spread between the rising spires of mountain, rock and trees. The cobbled roads were filthy, rotting matter in the gutters. The craved letters above the gate had proclaimed the town as “Gehenna - the last haven of civility before entering the Wild.” If this was what angel civilisation looked like, than the future was looking pretty grim for Dean and the other slaves. 

As the camp of damned souls arrived at the gates, the exhausted and sweaty slaves had been separated and sorted, seemingly at random. Some went straight into the mass pens lining the streets by the gate, others were taken to solitary pens like Dean, and yet more had disappeared entirely. Sam was in the latter group.

Dean Felt lost without his brother, the absence like a burning hole in his chest. The image of Sam’s big brown eyes wide with dear and pleading for Dean not to do something stupid was burnt into Dean’s memory, a picture he saw every time he shut his eyes. 

Dean roared, lunching forward and almost managing to get his hands on the blond Daemoness who had stepped a little too close. Sam would be mad if he could see Dean, but than Dean would like to see what Sammy did after having his clothing cut off and being paraded around ass out to the jeering crowd in the cold autumnal air. Fuck. If anyone hurt his Sammy, they would suffer immeasurable pain. Dean would make sure of that. 

The Daemon’s black eyes flashed, reflecting the light of the flickering torches. She laughed, not even flinching as Dean tried to hit her, instead turning her back to Dean as though she had no fear to look at the older man standing arms crossed next to her. Dean couldn’t tell what species he was, with eyes of gleaming yellow. He had never seen or heard of something similar. 

“Oh please father, he’s perfect. Look at him!”

A hush fell over the crowd, as though everyone held their breath, waiting for the decision from the yellow eyed man. Dean didn’t know what was going on. The old man didn’t look like much to him, what once might have been strong muscles were softening towards fat and old age, the odd scar spoke of a violent past, but the greying blond hair also showed a man long past his prime. Dean’s chest heaved with his harsh breath, pulse pounding as he stayed poised and ready for the next threat to come.

The man hummed, looking Dean up and down. “Perfect for who?”

“For our lord and master of course! Look at those cheeks, those eyes. He’s strong and defiant, he looks like he will work hard and be tough to break. The king will love him, the king will love breaking him.” 

Dean froze, every muscle in his body going tight and tense, bracing as this old man, who Dean could only guess was some strange type of Daemon, stepped a little closer. He waited, breath held as the daemon reached for him. The second he was close enough, Dean lunged again, aiming for a headbutt. With the ease of a fighter the daemon stepped to the side, dodging Dean’s attack, while one hand caught his throat and with inhuman strength had Dean up and off his feet, flying backwards to land hard on the floor. He gasped for breath as light burst before his eyes, confused and disorientated.

“I suppose if the master doesn’t want him, Alistair will.” With that the man had turned and left, apparently done with the human. Dean rolled onto his side, hacking and coughing up a mouthful of saliva and bile along with the thin porridge they were fed for lunch. He didn’t even fight when hands grabbed him, hauling him to his feet and dragging him away. As much as he wanted to see his little brother again, he really hoped the same bastard didn’t find Sam. He also hoped someone would give him some clothes at some point too. He hadn’t run around naked in public since the age of five, and while he was by no means ashamed of his body, he liked to choose who he shared it with, thank you very much.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer hated sunset. Romantic my ass. Dawn was the best time of the day, a new start, yesterday gone and forgotten. The sky painted in shades of red and pink, his wings catching and spreading the light. The sun’s rays warming his feathers, his blood, and his soul.

Lucifer was very much a fan of the dawn. All sunset heralded was the coming of dark and cold. Lucifer did not need the absence of light to make him feel cold, he rarely felt warm. 

His wing ached, a deep throb in time to his heart-beat. The feathers itched. Raphael damn them was right. To add insult into his injury, he was going into moult. No matter how beautiful an angel’s wings dressed in their finest feathers might look, naked wingers were, to put it simply, disgusting.

The bandage Raphael had used also prevented Lucifer’s wing from folding properly onto his back, forcing him to drag it along behind him. He kept forgetting and had already broken three priceless sculptures, upended multiple chairs and become entangled in no less than four rugs and two curtains. 

He felt like a fledgling and it was utterly insufferable! 

The darkening sky beckoned to him. He might not like sunset as much as sunrise, but he would still look beautiful silhouetted against the horizon. He longed to fly, to soar, to survey his airy kingdom from the highest vantage point. It had been barely a day since the accident and already he was losing his mind. 

Revenge.

That is what he needs. Good old fashioned petty revenge. His wings instinctively lifted, pretty feathers in their shades of red and pink puffing up in delight at the thought, only for his injured wing to send bright sparks shooting up his nerve endings.

He cursed, wings dropping, feathers slicking back in reaction to the pain. He really, really, hated his brother. Revenge would be sweet. Well for Lucifer at least, for Gabriel it would be long and very, very painful. 

Lucifer gripped the carved stone rail in front of him, watching the fading sun paint the sky in shades of gold and red, imagining it was Gabriel laying covered in blood, crying in pain, his wings a mangled mess. 

Stupid Gabriel.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam really didn’t understand how he found himself in these situations. He swears this could only happen to him.

Upon entering the town of Gehenna, he had been separated from Dean, rounded up with some of the prettier young girls and boys. He had been made to strip, wash in clean warm water with sweetly scented soap and then dress in thin cotton pants that were so revealing, he frankly could be wearing nothing and it would have the same effect. 

Once clean and dressed he had been led to a warm indoor room, chained with thin stylish chains and left alone. 

Now Sam wasn’t stupid, he knew he had somehow been selected as a pleasure slave and there was no way in hell he would be telling this to Dean because the bastard would never let him live it down!

And while all of that made sense, what didn’t was the small golden haired girl, who couldn’t be older than ten, sitting across the table from him, sipping daintily from a china teacup. 

“You’re very pretty.”

“Uhh, thank you?”

“You have to tell me I’m pretty too.”

“You’re... you’re very pretty too.”

“I know.” The little girl had a high sing song voice and eyes of milky white. Sam would normally associate those blank white eyes with blindness, but the little girl appeared to not only see everything but also far too much. “My daddy likes pretty things. I think he will like you. Would you like to come play with my daddy and me?”

It spoke to the strangeness of Sam’s life that he honestly couldn’t tell if the little blond girl was inviting him to play hide and seek or inviting him into her bed. He licked his lips, shifting in discomfort as he decided to hedge his bets a little, “What sort of games? I like hide and go seek.”

She giggled, the laugh bright and childish as she shook her head, soft hair flying. “No silly! Slaves can’t play hide and seek, slaves who go hide end up dead. That’s not the sort of game my daddy wants to play. He’s feeling very stressed and I think you will help.”

She finished her tea and got to her feet, pale white hands smoothing the soft white dress flat. “I’ll take you. You will make daddy happy, and if you don’t, than I can play with you! My last slave only lasted three days. I hope you do better.”

She grinned at him, those horrible white eyes looking right into his soul as she lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. A second later the room was filled with black eyed daemons. They bowed to the child and set about unchaining Sam. He didn’t fight, too shocked and confused to protest as he was led away. He had just been sold as a sex slave to a ten year old daemon with white eyes who could command daemons three times her age. Seriously, how is this Sam’s life?

~*~*~*~*~ 

The palace was in uproar. The rumour that Azazel was making a power play had gotten out and the other daemons had reacted in a predictable manner, which is to say with outrage and subterfuge. It was no secret the master had been injured; it was also no secret that a hurt master was a bitchy master. Two of the domestic slaves had already suffered injuries of their own, one a cut on the head from the plate that smashed an inch above her, and another had suffered a broken arm when he had tripped while trying to run away. Lucifer wasn’t to blame for either, but that’s not how the slaves saw it.

The angel himself was bored, tired, uncomfortable and so very very done with it all. The first rays of the sun had barely touched the tips of the mountains that cradled Baratrum in their unfeeling spires, but already he had had no less than six daemons creep into his bedchamber with gifts for him. Really, was it any wonder his slaves were ending up injured when they were used as ploys in such power games?

He had struggled to sleep, the pain keeping him awake and preventing him from finding a comfortable position to rest in. Eventually he had abandoned sleep in favour of sitting backwards on his favourite chair at his favourite table overlooking his favourite view. The long lines of his wings sprawled out behind him, one arm folded over the backrest of his chair and his chin resting on it. 

He had been trying to play chess, but it would appear the daemons saw him awake and decided he must want their attention; as though he actually liked any of them. Azazel may have been the first to think of using Lucifer’s injury to his own advantage, but the other daemons had quickly jumped on board. Not the faction leaders, the Daemons on the council, but those with ambitions of power, seeking advancement and attempting to climb the ruling ladder by earning favour with the lord. 

Baratrum was strange for an angel city, named after the kingdom it belonged to, it had a far larger population of daemons than could be found just about anywhere else in the world. Aurae for example had no daemons to speak of, while Sanitatem had only a handful, all of whom were highly discriminated against. The exact numbers in Praestigia were unknown; in fact, anything about Praestigia was unknown considering the city was full of pranksters and tricksters. None of them would ever be still long enough to be counted. 

As though the number of daemons within Baratrum’s walls wasn’t surprising enough, the fact they managed to co-exist almost civilly was practically awe-inspiring. There were six key daemons, members on the council and Lucifer’s chosen advisors. These daemons in turn formed several factions, which most of the daemons, slaves and few free citizens within Baratrum joined. The council had been relatively stable for the last fifty years, but that didn’t mean that there was no room for movement; particularly considering the impermanence of life. 

Lucifer swallowed a low growl as he heard the heavy wooden door to his bedroom creak open. He really needed to get someone to fix that before he lost his temper and simply ripped it off its hinges; especially since he couldn’t seem to convince the daemons of the stupidity of constantly invading his private space. 

“Your majesty, my king. I have returned, as I said I would.”

Lucifer didn’t look around or react in any way. Azazel could be so dramatic sometimes. It had only been a day since he was last here bothering Lucifer, that wasn’t enough time for him to notice the daemon’s absence let alone to miss him. Although Lucifer was not convinced it was even possible for an archangel like him to miss a daemon, even a greater one like Azazel. 

“Sire? I said I had returned. As promised, I found you the cure for your boredom.”

He could hear Azazel getting annoyed, although he was trying very hard to keep it hidden. He loved it when Azazel got angry, even if it inevitably meant a fire in one of the slave quarters. 

There was a rattle of chains accompanied by a rough cough. “Looks like your master doesn’t give as much of a shit about you as you thought.” The words were rough and raspy, as though the owner of the voice hadn’t had a drink in a while, or recently been strangled. Both were equally likely with Azazel. 

The stranger was cut off with a grunt and a wheeze, a feminine voice hissing, “Show some respect to your betters, slave!”

Ugh. Meg. Lucifer had never liked her. The blond daemoness was always planning something. She claimed loyalty to her father, but Lucifer knew if he offered her a step over her dad he would be dead in an instant. The other voice however he didn’t recognise at all. Lucifer didn’t turn, just waved an arm beckoning them to come into sight. 

There were shuffling steps accompanied by the rattling chains as Lucifer sat up, blue eyes focussing on the slave between the two daemons. He tilted his head to one side as his wings shifted behind him with the soft rustle and rattle of his feathers. 

The slave was obviously human, short blond hair, a smattering of freckles, the biggest and brightest green eyes he had ever seen. The human was naked, which was a little strange, but than humans always have been a little strange. He was clearly fit, a lean frame covered in smooth, well defined muscle. He had a tattoo over his heart, a pentagram surrounded in flames. It was a protective symbol if Lucifer remembered correctly, although it didn’t appear to have done the human much good. 

It was clear the last few weeks hadn’t been kind to the man. There was a half healed scab on his shoulder and his chest and body was littered in scrapes and bruises, alongside the healing welts. 

Lucifer gestured at the heavy metal chains linked to manacles on the human’s wrists, ankles, neck and waist. Both looked excessively thick and heavy, relative to the human’s size and strength. Lucifer raised an eyebrow and waited. There were rules in Baratrum and Azazel was clearly breaking them. 

He watched as the older daemon swallowed hard, looking as though he was trying to think of a polite way of ignoring a direct order. Meg was clearly not as experienced at this game, shifting in discomfort and stuttering slightly as she spoke. “With all due respect Sire...” 

She trailed off, taking a step backwards as Lucifer lifted his other brow to join the first, his eyes narrowing slightly and his lips pursing in displeasure at the disobedience. “My apologies Megan. I must have missed the meeting where you were given the authority to decide what I do or do not want to happen.”

The human snorted, “That’s you told, you bitch.”

Lucifer smiled internally as Meg’s hands clenched with suppressed rage. She didn’t hit him, but it was a close call. This human was either incredible brave or incredibly stupid. Either was likely to prove a terminal condition, but perhaps he will provide entertainment in the meantime.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~*~ 

Since Dean had been enslaved, he had had a lot of very bad days, but this possibly took the biscuit. He had been chained by his wrists, ankles, waist and neck, forcing him to take small clanking steps. He had than been dragged naked through the streets of Gehenna to a large foreboding stone facade with the words, “Abandon hope, all who enter here.” In a curling script engraved above the door. The whole way there he had no choice but to endure the ‘accidental’ touches and loud jeers of the town’s residents.

He had then been shoved into a small stone room with no winder, light or bedding and spent a cold and uncomfortable night on the floor, still in his chains. 

For the second day in a row, he was awakened by a bucked of cold water to the face and he was in sheer agony. His injured shoulder hurt, his head hurt, his back hurt, the chains on his ankles and neck were both too tight making them chafe to top it all off, the way he had been chained forced his body to remain in an incredibly uncomfortable position. All of that combined to make for a very pissed off Dean. And Sam would be the first to say that a pissed Dean was not a rational or careful Dean.

He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, without windows time was meaningless, but he has was hungry enough it had to be at least four hours, but tired enough that it couldn’t be more than six since he fell asleep. Either way, it wasn’t long enough after dragging a wagon for more than eight hours the day before. 

The Daemon in the doorway holding the now empty bucket was the same smug bitch from the day before. His new owner? Or at least the one who bought him as a present for someone else... if Dean had understood that exchange. And seriously, who does that! She was radiating amusement, practically crowing in delight at his misery. 

Dean couldn’t help himself, he knew it was pointless, but something about her attitude made him see red. He forced his tired and aching body to his feet and before he could think better of it, he was diving towards her, chains and all with the intention of getting her on the ground and beating the shit out of her. He didn’t even got close. The Daemon simply stepped to the side, an outstretched arm catching him in the throat, followed by a hard knee to the groin. His inevitable collapse to the ground was sped along by a sharp elbow to the back of his head and a heel impacting right in the back of his left knee. 

Say what you like about the daemoness, she could fucking fight. Dean was left gasping and coughing on the floor once more, tears springing to his eyes as he tried to curl his body around his vulnerable insides. His attempt to protect his groin and belly left his face exposed and he was sure she was going to kick him while he was already down. 

She didn’t, instead stepping closer and crouching down. “Poor Baby, you fight so hard, but you’re outclassed. Don’t give up though. The master likes ‘em feisty.”

She laughed, grabbing the chain close to the collar and hauling him to his feet. Dean was given no time to recover before the daemon was dragging him from the room. It was hard to keep up with her, long legs with a long stride while Dean’s ankles were tired so close together. She didn’t seem to really care if he walked to stumbled after her either, as happy to half drag him by his collar as to have him walking on his own steam. She was strong too, far stronger than her slim and feminine frame should have been. 

He was lead through dim and windowless stone corridors to a second room. Still no windows, but at least this one was filled with flickering torches. The bright light hurt Dean’s eyes after so long in the dark, but he forced himself to pay attention and look around in the hopes of finding an escape. A large pentagram was carved in the stone floor, a candle placed at each of the five points where the star met the circle. Meg didn’t slow down or pause for a moment, simply dragging Dean with her straight into the middle of the pentagram.

The air went hazy around Dean and suddenly he could no longer see, the world tilting sideways around him. He felt as though he had just been thrown off a building but his stomach stayed behind. There was a strange sound, like a gale blowing straight into his ear and a moment later Dean was staggering sideways. No longer held up by the daemon, Dean dropped to his knees and promptly dry heaved. 

He didn’t know what the fuck had happened, but he did not like it one little bit. The room was still swaying and spinning around him, and he felt confused and disorientated. He heard the daemon laughing a second before she yanked the chain hard to the side, causing him to topple from his knees to his side in the foetal position. 

“Enough Meg. The master will not appreciate the smell of vomit, nor does he like others playing with his toys, as you know full well.”

Dean groaned weakly. He needed some water, to rinse his mouth out, help settle his stomach, but he doubted he was going to get anything soon. The second voice came from the same older daemon who bought Dean yesterday, the one with the yellow eyes and the fighter’s reflexes. Dean had no idea where the fucker had come from, because he sure as hell hadn’t been there when Dean stepped into the pentagram. 

He didn’t seem to have any more interest in letting Dean recover from his experiences than his daughter did. He hooked his fingers through the collar and lifted Dean up to his feet once more, as he ignored the choking and coughing of the human. 

He was so very tired and in so very much pain. He didn’t have the will to fight or argue any more. He had tried and been show again and again that he wasn’t going to win that competition. Either one of the daemons could beat him in a fair fight and both of them together? He had no choice but to once again follow as best as he could as he was hauled through more stone corridors. He was a little surprised to note that these looked different. There were now evenly spaced windows showing the first hint of dawn, interspersed with lit lamps. The stone was softened by rugs on the floor and hangings on the wall, making the corridor warmer and more luxurious somehow. 

The windows also showed something else that he couldn’t completely believe. Each snatched glance as he was dragged past showed they were a very long way above the ground, mountains rising up off in each direction. How on earth they got from a ground floor building in a town at the foot of the mountain, to a corridor thousands of feet in the air was a mystery for another day, but Dean strongly suspected it had something to do with the pentagram room. 

They didn’t pause or slow until they reached the end of the corridor and the pair of grand wooden doors nestled there. The older daemon turned to ‘Meg’ and hissed in a low and threatening voice, “Do not embarrass me girl. The master respects me and my judgement, do not make him doubt me.”

He turned around once more, not waiting for a response or to see the face that Meg made to his back. Dean did, but he kept it to himself, he was already bracing to meet his newest owner, the king pin asshole. 

The door opened with the slow creek of un-oiled hinges and Dean couldn’t help but wince in discomfort at the sound. 

He didn’t know what to expect, but the spacious room with a wall of floor to ceiling windows wasn’t it. There was a large bed with pillows and blankets on one side, an elegant wardrobe nearby. A large table with matching carved chairs took up another section of the room, but opposite them, straight centre of the magnificent view of the rising sun, was an angel. 

Dean had never seen one before as they rarely left their lands, but he didn’t think any could be as beautiful as this one. Wings at least half again as long as Dean was tall were splayed across the floor, feathers in shades of pink, red and orange seemed to glow with an inner light. Even the white bandages wrapped around one wing did nothing to detract from their beauty. 

The wings were attached to a smooth strong back, pale skin left bare. The back of his head was covered in golden hair that looked soft and fluffy, calling for Dean to run his fingers through and make a mess of. What Dena could see of his ass and thighs was also very much appealing. Or at least it would be if the man didn’t own Dean. Frankly, any man who thought he had the right to own another person was bound to be an asshole and Dean hated him on principle anyway. 

The asshole theory was confirmed moments later when the angel didn’t even bother to acknowledge their presence. Dean couldn’t resist a snarky comment, his own tired and pain filled brain making him short and stupid. He wasn’t surprised when Meg immediately punched him in the gut, causing him to double over, wheezing. 

Dean was tugged forward and round to one side, so the angel could see them without having to move, the lazy dick. A second later Dean felt himself blushing as cool blue eyes examined him. He felt like a horse being examined and assessed to see if he was fit for purpose. He felt like he was missing something, a silent conversation going on between the two daemons and the angel, but he did understand the smooth insult aimed at Meg. 

If Sam was there, he would be giving Dean the “Please don’t do anything stupid, Dee!” look. But Sam wasn’t there, Sam was gone and Dean might never see him again. His tormentor had just been insulted and Dean might not get a chance to take revenge, he was going to enjoy what he could, regardless of the consequences to himself. 

“That’s you told, you bitch.” As soon as Dean said it, he braced for the violence, only it didn’t come. Instead Meg was reaching into her tight silk shirt and pulling something out from between her creamy breasts. Dean blinked in confusion as she used the metal key to release Dean’s chains, one by one. She was scowling the whole time and made no effort reduce the noise, letting the chains clatter on the floor with a painfully loud clanking. 

Dean shifted his attention from Meg to the angel and back again, rubbing at his sore wrist. He didn’t know what was happening. The angel had already looked away, returning to his game, or whatever it was that had his attention on the table, and apparently dismissing both the human and slaves as no longer interesting. Dean glanced to his other side, looking at the male daemon, if the angel had said his name at any point, than Dean has missed it. He did not look happy, face a tight mask of barely suppressed rage as he carefully queried, “Sire?”

“You may leave, Azazel. I suggest the next time you present me with entertainment; it’s not in chains and smelling like a latrine. Preferably without the blood, pain and nudity also.”

“Fuck you asshole! Let’s see how fucking sweet you smell after being chained up as a slave for three fucking weeks.”

Dean knew as soon as he said it he had made a mistake. If Sam had been here, he would have covered Dean’s mouth to stop him doing exactly that, but Sam wasn’t here, and Dean couldn’t just stand there, listening to the pampered asshole in his palace of luxury judging him and insulting him because of the way his minions had treated him! Dean didn’t look to either of the daemons next to him, but heard them both inhale with hissed breaths, out of the corner of his eye he could see Meg twitching as though she was desperate to hit him, but sheer force of will held her back. 

The fantastic wings twitched, shifting with a rustle and rattle. Dean didn’t know enough about birds or angels to interpret the small movements though. The angel looked up again, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth and he didn’t look the slightest bit offended. It was the sort of look you might give to a small puppy who just peed on the rug, as though you couldn’t expect anything else from the pup. 

“I can’t imagine ever being stupid enough to get enslaved in the first place. Now you’re dismissed. Leave.”

Dean bristled, muscles tensing as he prepared to lunch himself towards the asshole, only to have both daemons catch at his arms. 

“Sire. The slave has proved himself to be violent and aggressive. I strongly suggest he is kept in chains, for your safety and for that of the other slaves.”

“Azazel. I entrust my entire military to your tender mercies, and now you are telling me you can’t manage a single unruly human? Perhaps my trust was misplaced. I shall have to consider if there is someone more suitable.”

“Sire that will not be necessary. I assure you I am more than able to manage the slave. Please call me if you require anything further.”

Dean heard more than saw that Meg was grabbing up Dean’s old chains, but he was already halfway out the room, being dragged behind Azazel. He could practically feel the rage pouring off the older daemon.

Dean tried to follow the route they were taken, but he lost track quickly, it seemed to be a maze of corridors, down several flights of stairs and then up a couple more before finally they arrived at a room. Azazel opened the wooden door with bars on the small window and literally threw Dean into the room, causing him to trip and land face down on the floor. A position he was really getting tired of finding himself in. 

The door slammed shut behind him and he heard Azazel hiss something at Meg, he couldn’t hear the words, but it sounded dark and angry. Dean imagined at the very least it was a complaint considering Meg was the one who chose Dean and it had clearly not gone as well as the daemons had hoped. 

Dean felt himself smile for the first time since he had been separated from Sam. He took a moment to look around the small plain room. There were two bunk beds, one on either side of the door, a small wooden table against the opposite wall and a small high window on the same side. The beds all had thin blankets and pillows, it was far from luxury, but Dean was too tired to care. He would have liked to wash before going to sleep, but as it was, he was happy to climb into a bed and under the covers. Sleep first. Plan later. 

Dean was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	4. Chapter 4

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam yawned, stretching slowly. That had been the best night’s sleep he had had in years. The bed was ridiculously comfortable after weeks of sleeping on the floor in chains. He had been given a proper meal last night, with real meat and fresh vegetables, nothing rotten, nothing questionable. He had been woken by the early sun on his face, feeling warm and relaxed. Even better, after he had relieved himself and splashed fresh water on his face he had returned to find a red-haired girl with the same “jewellery” putting a bowl of porridge, along with sweet berries on his table.

“Hello.”

“Oh! Hi, you’re the new one I was expecting a girl! Lilith normally prefers her dolls female. I’m Charlie, I would love to stay and chat, but I have to take Crowley his breakfast and then wash the pots in the kitchen before Benny throws another hissy fit. But maybe soon you will be allowed out on your own and we can have a proper chat.”

Before Sam could process everything she said and form his own response, Charlie had taken his plate and cup from the night before and left again, the door shutting with a little click.

“My name’s Sam, nice to meet you too.” He couldn’t help but mutter at the shut door. He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t expected one anyway. He settled at the table and ate his second meal as a pleasure slave. The porridge was lovely, a thick and creamy mash made with real milk instead of water and cooked through, served hot instead of mostly cold. He could definitely get used to this and honestly? Sam was beginning to think that a little bit of sex was a small price to pay to feel like a person again instead of a possession. 

God, he hoped Dean was okay and being treated as well as Sam was. 

Last night had been one of the most surreal experiences of Sam’s life. After the small child with the white eyes had left, the daemons she had summoned had all deferred to a small woman, head barely level with Sam’s shoulder who had introduced herself as Ruby. She had long brown hair that fell loose around a pretty face with the typical daemon black eyes and a soft bow mouth. In another world Sam would have thought her beautiful. 

Ruby had been surprisingly chatty, explaining Sam’s new role in life. He was now owned by Lilith (the child), but this wouldn’t last for long because he was bought as a gift for the master. This made Sam the luckiest slave in the world, because to hear Ruby speak of the master, he hung the moon, created life and is beauty given physical form. 

Sam had been taken to a strange stone building and then into a little room with a carved pentagram on the floor. Ruby, had explained it was a gift from the master, a spell system which drew on his Grace and allowed those with permission to travel between carved pentagrams. It turned a three week journey by foot into a ten second journey. Ruby went on to explain that the sensation of falling took some getting used to, but the effects wouldn’t last. 

Sam had then been led to a fairly large room with a comfortable looking bed calling to the exhausted human, complete with thick blankets and two fluffy pillows. The bed was opposite the window, a desk and chair underneath and a small wardrobe to the side. There was a second room attached which proved to be a washroom. A plate of bread and cheese, fresh fruit and cold meats was left on the table alongside a pitcher of something that proved to be fruit juice when Sam poured a glass. 

Ruby had proceeded to unhook the chains but left the manacles on, they looked more like jewellery than anything else, and Sam didn’t really mind. She than explained that the door would be locked for tonight, but as long as Sam behaved himself, this wouldn’t last. She would return the next day when it was time for him to meet the master. 

Sam was glad he had already been washed by the slave traders, so he didn’t feel too guilty eating the delicious food quickly, before crawling into the comfortable bed and sleeping like the dead.

He finished his breakfast and with nothing better to do, he decided to explore his rooms a little better. He wasn’t as impulsive and reckless as Dean, but Sam had no intention of spending the rest of his life a slave, no matter how comfortable it might seem. But escapes took thought, planning and patience, something Sam had in buckets. The first step is learning his environment. 

The window was the most obvious weakness in his rooms; he was a little surprised to see it was so large with no bars or shutters locked over the glass pane. Two seconds looking out revealed why the daemons weren’t worried about the window. He didn’t know how many stories up he was, but the ground wasn’t visible below, just a smooth seamless stretch of wall disappearing below into a smooth white haze. Sam couldn’t tell from the angle if it was a mist or a cloud, but either way, climbing down the wall wasn’t a viable option. 

The view was of the eastern horizon and he could see the sun rising in the distance. Ragged mountains stretched away to either side and for the first time, Sam realised that Ruby hadn’t been lying... Gehenna where Sam had been sold was at the foot of the mountains, the room he was currently standing in, was definitely at the top of a peak. Well Shit. He wasn’t familiar enough with the Dentes Infernum or Baratrum lands to recognise where he was or even where the nearest safe space might be. The window provided no help. 

The wardrobe was mostly empty; the bottom had a layer of dust that had been missing in the rest of the room, while the shelf at the top had two spare folded blankets. Sam checked under the blankets, but was a little disappointed to find nothing else. 

He was surprised how quickly the boredom snuck up on him. He was used to being on his feet and working hard all day; this enforced inactivity was surprisingly difficult. There was nothing useful or surprising in the washroom, water was supplied through a spout from one of the walls, Sam was a little confused how the water came out warm, but there was no way to figure it out. The lavatory that Sam had used the morning also had a clever system to wash the waste away. Sam had heard of plumbing like that, but he had never actually seen it, a luxury of the rich and wealthy and something only people who lived settled lives might get to experience. 

With nothing better to do with himself, Sam made his bed, noticing for the first time the corner of a book poking out from under the pillow. He settled himself down on the bedding and examined the front cover, “About wing care and grooming.” Sam got all of three pages into the book before he realised the wings and feathers being written about were not in fact bird wings...

The sun was high in the sky by the time the door opened, Lilith and Ruby both entering as though they belonged there. Ruby was holding an armful of neatly folded clothing. 

“Oh Good! Your already learning how to take care of daddy, he will be pleased by this. We are going to meet him now. You need to get dressed, daddy likes pretty things.”

Ruby was smirking slightly as she sat on the bed, placing the clothes next to herself. Sam didn’t feel like arguing and obediently stepped forward to take the clothes, only for Ruby to rest her hand on the pile and shake her head slowly with raised eyebrows. 

Sam sighed, glancing at the little girl, it was bad enough to strip in front of the adult daemon with her hungry eyes, but was she really going to make him do it in front of a child too? Lilith for her part was sat perfectly posed on the table, body twisted to look out the window. She didn’t appear interested in the silent exchange between the human and daemoness. 

Sam sighed again, but quickly realised unless he was willing to fight about it, he didn’t actually have a choice. He striped and redressed as quickly as possible, grateful that Ruby made no move to touch him, but humiliated none the less. 

The new clothes fitted perfectly. Everything was white, the jacket, the shirt, the trousers, even the shoes, were all white. It made him feel a bit like a virgin sacrifice despite the fact he hadn’t been a virgin for years.

Once he was dressed, Lilith had insisted he sit down in the chair and she had then proceeded to spend several minutes carefully combing his hair, adding a strange scented oil to the strands until it shined. It made him feel every bit the doll that Charlie had called him that morning, a toy for the child to play with. Eventually she was satisfied and gave him a small and serious nod. 

“We will go play now.”

When she got to the door, she held out her small hand for Sam to take and then led him through the palace and up two flights of stairs. He memorised the way, just in case it would be useful in the future. 

The large wooden door that Sam was led to opened with a silent glide and the small child with the creepy white eyes led Sam into Heaven. 

The room was large, lined with row upon row of floor to ceiling bookshelves. The wall opposite Sam, visible at the end of the aisle of books, was glass, just side by side window, admitting natural light into the room, strategically placed mirrors caught the natural light and spread it, along with strange glass balls that appeared to glow, also spaced through the room. It should have been dark and intimidating, that might wood and paper, but instead it felt bright and airy. 

Sam had never seen so many books in his life, he longed to explore, to browse, to read and absorb the knowledge soaked into the pages. The desire was tempered with a hint of guilt. He was almost glad that Dean wasn’t here. Couldn’t sneer at the lifetimes of learning contained within the room and call Sam a nerd for his joy. 

He wasn’t given much time to gawk or dwell on his thoughts, the pretty little daemoness in her pretty white dress with its red hem tugged him along. A glance over his shoulder showed that Ruby was swaying along behind.

“Daddy! I brought you a present!” Lilith called out with the high pitched sing song voice of a child. 

They stepped past the last edge of shelves and into an open area, large comfortable arm chairs placed next to small side tables and carefully positioned to catch the best of the light. A thick rug covered the stone floor and there was an air of warmth and comfort here. 

Sprawled sideways and half upside down in one of the armchairs was “daddy” a fact made confusing for Sam, who had been expecting a demon. The man in front of him was definitely not a daemon, at least not if the huge sweeping wings, glowing with the morning sun in shades of red and pink were anything to go by. 

Sam came to a stop as Lilith released his hand and instead lunched herself forward, climbing eagerly into the angel’s lap. An impressive feat considering the man had one ankle hooked on the backrest of the chair, while the other was stretched over the armrest. His head hanging upside down over the back and a book held in the air so he could read in the position. To Sam, it looked like the most uncomfortable thing he had seen, and that wasn’t including the way the right wind was folded and twisted slightly where it was trapped between the man’s body and the side of the arm chair. 

The angel lowered the book, lifting his head to regard the small child in his lap with a slight curve lifting the corner of his lips. “And what did you bring me, my sweet little daemon?”

Lilith sat back, sweeping an arm at Sam. The angel’s face went blank, sharp blue eyes turning to look at Sam. “A human? It feels as though everyone here has suddenly decided I like humans.”

“Not just _any_ human. This one is special daddy. He knows how to read and write. He is smart and pretty to look at; he has big hands perfect for worshiping you and daddy? He’s strong! You won’t be able to break him.”

As the little daemon spoke, the bright blue eyes examined Sam, studying and assessing as though he was trying to see the traits Lilith described. A small frown appeared between the blond eyebrows, but smoothed away as she finished speaking. 

“Well, I supposed he’s better than the others of today. Thank you Lilith. You may go.”

She giggled sweetly, leaning down to hug the angel. “If you don’t like him, Alistair is always looking for new pets.”

Ruby lean into Sam’s shoulder, breath hot and sweet in Sam’s ear, “Best please the lord, Sam. Alistair is not kind to his pets.”

With that both daemons withdrew, leaving Sam standing awkwardly under the angel’s gaze. 

“I have never met a human who could read.”

Sam blinked in surprise than scowled at the asshole. “I take it you haven’t met many humans who weren’t born into slavery than. It’s amazing what we are capable of when we aren’t someone’s possession.”

The blond head tilted sideways, eyebrows raised. “Shall I point out the irony of that statement or are you already aware?”

And Sam couldn’t stop himself from giving the blond asshole what Dean would affectionately refer to as a bitchface. Because really, what sort of a dick points out the fact they own another person in order to win an argument. 

To make matters worse, the asshole promptly began to laugh, his head tipping back, showing off a smooth strong neck, the sort that would look good with love bites all over it. 

Sam took back all his previous thoughts about coping with his situation and making the most of it. If this is the dick he now belongs to, Sam would rather take his chances with Alistair.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer laughed, the sound pure and sweet as it echoed around the library. The human had folded his arms on his chest and was glaring like he was trying to set the angel on fire.

To think Lucifer had thought that feisty little thing Azazel brought him was the best human he had met. He was wrong. Lilith, as always, had impeccable taste. The pretty creature in front of him was almost enough to make him forget the aching throb of his broken wing and the niggling itch of his damaged feathers. 

He chuckled a little, wings flexing and resettling around him as he waved a hand at his newest human. “Go on, find something interesting. Lilith said you were smart, I want you to prove it.”

“By reading a book?” Either the human was bad at hiding his emotions, or he didn’t feel the need to keep the scepticism from his face and voice. 

“By analysing your chosen book. Do you agree or disagree with the authors views and why? Every book is biased in some way, that doesn’t mean they are wrong, just that it is not enough to read a book, you must understand what you read.”

“Right. What about romances?”

“Even a romance novel is a commentary on society and class; a window into the moral compass of the author and a chance to experience life as another. The inability to find value in a romance novel speaks to a lack of intelligence in the reader, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would argue that those who read romance don’t do so for the ‘social commentary’ as you put it.”

“Oh?”

“They read it for the smut.”

Lucifer laughed again. He liked this human. Lilith was right; he was clever and funny in equal measure, with a fine thread of sass thrown into the mixture. His days looked to be a lot less boring if the pretty little thing lived up to his early promise. 

“Then I suggest you find something else to read. Unless of course you wished to engage in a conversation regarding the pros and cons of sexual positions?”

He watched in interest as the man flushed very red, his gaze flicking down Lucifer’s body than away again quickly. It was a strange reaction and most likely indicated at least a little interest in Lucifer. 

The angel made a mental note to consider the reaction again later, but otherwise didn’t comment. He turned his attention back to the book he was reading. A history of Lupinotuum packs and historic lands. Most interesting.

~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sam and Luci's meeting goes a little better than Dean, but does that surprise anyone?
> 
> I'm always happy to hear your thoughts and opinions if you have any? I don't even mind if it's critical...


	5. Chapter 5

~*~*~*~*~ 

_Dean collapsed against the tree trunk, his chest was heaving, breaths coming in hard gasps in time to the pounding of his heart. His shoulder was a white hot throb in time to his pulse, his legs burning jelly. But far worse than any physical complaint, he had lost Sammy. One moment the long haired giant was behind him, the next Dean was alone in the dark wood._

_“Here little lamb, where have you gone? You can’t escape. It’s already too late.” The words were half hiss and half sing-song. It made Dean’s skin crawl._

_He shut his eyes, the rough bark was scratching on the back of his head. He needed to think. The daemon was right, he couldn’t out run them. He was already at his breaking point and the bastard didn’t even sound out of breath. Besides, if they already had Sam..._

_“Poor little lamb, thinks he can get away. Maybe he is trying to hide.”_

_“Run rabbit, run rabbit”_

_“Abandon your friend.”_

_“We don’t mind, he’s big enough to share.”_

_The voices were moving further away, cackling and laughing to each other. Somehow, in the dark and the undergrowth, they had managed to lose Dean. He found himself crossing his fingers where they rested on the bark. It was a childish gesture, but he was unable to resist. A desperate hope they had missed him. He would have to double back, find Sam and get them both the hell out of there._

_Dean waited until all sounds had faded, than forced himself away from the tree, one shaky step after another. He was careful to walk back along his desperate path, this time he needed to be quiet, not draw attention to himself. If he wanted to get Sam away safely, he would need to be careful and smart. Neither was his strong point, but he didn’t have Sam to do it for him right now._

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean woke with a start and covered in a cold sweat. His pulse was still rabbit fast and adrenaline was rolling through his veins, making him want to either run or fight... possibly both.

He sat up, looking around the dim room in confusion, trying to remember what happened and how he came to be here. 

He combed shaking fingers through his sweaty hair, a bead of sweat running in a slow tickle down his spine as he slowly remembered the passing day. Sam was gone. It was that absence that caused his nightmare. He had lost his little brother, again. 

A glance at the window showed him it was still light bout, but the sun had moved around, making the room considerably darker. It helped him to orientate himself either way. His room was clearly on the east side, as was the ‘Masters’ room. 

He forced his aching body up and over to the window, looking for a way to pull himself up higher for a proper look. If he wanted to form an escape plan, he would need to know the lay of the land, learn as much about this hellhole as he possible could. 

He had hardly got his fingertips to the windowsill when the door behind him flew open with a bang. Dean jumped back guiltily, turning to stare at Meg, who was smirking in amusement. She had a split lip and the beginning of a black eye but looked utterly unbothered by both. 

“Alright buttercup. You failed miserably at your only purpose in life, but have no fear! Meg saved the day. The pups need a new kennel boy, someone to take ‘em for walkies and play fetch. The last slave went and got himself eaten, so lucky for you, there’s a vacancy. I convinced dad to give you a go, I strongly suggest you don’t fuck it up this time. If the dogs don’t like you, you best hope they eat you quick, because Alistair is all that’s left.”

“If you’re waiting for me to thank you, you can fuck right off bitch.”

“Oh honey, you can be as sassy as you like, but I’m doing you a favour here. Get dressed. Now. It’s feeding time.”

She threw a pile of clothes on the floor that Dean hadn’t even noticed she was holding. He was more than a little relieved to discover the clothes were a simply linen shirt with a leather vest and a pair of leather pants that looked to be his size. He was even more pleased to see his own boots underneath. His odds of escape suddenly looked a whole lot better. 

Dean wasted no time getting dressed, not because he wanted to be obedient, but because he was excited to finally have clothes to wear again. He didn’t even fuss when Meg made a sweeping gesture, welcoming Dean to follow her. He was surprised there were no chains, but he wasn’t about to argue. 

If he got a chance to escape, he would take it and if he didn’t, well then, he had always liked dogs and it could be so much worse. 

Once again Dean paid attention to the route they walked. There was a lot of steps down, at least five stories which added to the two from earlier, meant the palace was at least 7 stories high. He wasn’t looking forward to the return journey, all those stairs...

Despite his best efforts, Dean quickly lost track of the route. They walked through winding corridors that seemed to go up and down despite being on a level, they took three rights in a row and yet didn’t cross back on their path and they walked through two identical courtyards without leaving the solid stone walls. Finally, after what felt like miles of walking, they came to a tiny spiral staircase in a turret and descended an additional two flights of stairs. 

When they finally stopped in a central courtyard with thick metal cages on all sides of the circle, Dean was utterly lost and completely confused. 

The smell of dog was heavy in the air and he could hear high yips and deep growls on all sides. He turned to Meg with a raised eyebrow. The expression was met by a smirk and a shove in the chest, causing him to stumble down the last step. “Be a good boy now.”

By the time Dean had caught his balance, the door was shut and he was alone.

“New meat? You scared of big dogs or you as strong as you look?”

“And boy do you look strong!”

Dean turned to find two women, one old enough to be his mother with a stern no nonsense look on her face, while the other looked to be his age, a pretty blond that Dean instantly gave a once over. Both women looked to be human at first glance, but experience told him it can hard to tell. 

“Hunted my fair share, before I got hunted in turn. Karma’s a fucking bitch right? Name’s Dean.” When in doubt, act confident and cocky. 

The older woman nodded, no sympathy, just understanding. “Ellen, that’s my girl, Jo. And you keep giving her that look and my pups are getting testicles for supper. Believe me when I say they won’t complain. 

Dean swallowed hard, nodding his head in understanding and agreement both. “Got it, eyes off the daughter.”

Jo snorted, saying, “Not as brave as he looks then.” At the same time as Ellen replied, “Clever boy learns fast.”

“Hey! I’m plenty braves but I’m also not stupid. So what’s the deal here?”

Ellen gave Jo an elbow and sent her off across the courtyard as she shifted the large tub she was holding to her other hip. Dean felt a small jolt of alarm as he noticed her bloody hands for the first time, but he didn’t show it. 

“You are going to butcher the meat for me, break a sweat. We don’t mess around with these babies, you aren’t ready to meet them yet.”

“Oh.” Despite himself, Dean felt a little disappointed. He liked dogs. They had a puppy as a kid, Bones. He had died soon after Dean’s mum did and their lives all changed for the worse. 

Ellen frowned at him, “Oi now, none of that pouting. The last kid they sent me didn’t listen and he ended up dead. The dogs don’t like strangers so they got to know your scent before they get to know you. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am”

“And you can knock that right off. I ain’t no-bodies ma’am.”

Dean couldn’t help the first genuine grin that spread over his face, “Yes sir, got it sir, not a ma’am, sir.”

Ellen rolled her eyes but the hard distrust had softened into something fonder. “Alright funny boy, play time is over.”

What followed was the longest and hardest few hours of Dean’s life. He had to butcher two cows and sheep before hauling what felt like half an ocean’s worth of water to fill several large troughs. Through it all, Ellen made him wipe the sweat away with a different rag each time. 

By the time they were finally done for the night, Dean’s already aching muscles had turned to jelly and his arms and shoulder’s had all gone numb. He was also starving despite the thick smell of blood and guts coming off his clothes and skin. It had been hard work, but satisfying too. Ellen and Jo were good people, they told Dean about the different dogs, those they liked and the ones they didn’t like, the jobs he would be doing later and gossip about the palace he found himself in. 

Meg might have thought he made the biggest mistake in the world when he insulted the master, but as far as Dean was concerned, he might just have met the two people most likely to help him get out of this place.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer licked his lips, head tilted to one side as he watched his newest human stalk back across the room, books in arm. And that was definitely what he was doing; no elegant glide like a pleasure slave should have, or even the quick shuffle of the regular slaves eager to get on with their tasks. No, this human, this strange little thing his Lilith had found, stalked. Each step was placed with precision, as though he was hunting in a forest and the slightest misstep would alert his prey.

Lucifer found the behaviour both fascinating and bizarre. It spoke to habits and training that took years to form, and looked so very out of place in the beautiful library on the upper floors of a palace located a top a mountain and under the protection of one of the most powerful creatures in the world. He couldn’t take his eyes away. 

Not that some of Lucifer’s books weren’t dangerous. Many a Lamia has died attempting to steal one of his grimoires. Oh and wasn’t Lucifer looking forward to his curious little pet finding those! 

Long fingers reached behind his back, scratching at the prickling itch in his feathers. His bandage was in the way, but Raphael won’t notice if he moves it a little to get at the feathers underneath, as long as he doesn’t disrupt the stitches. 

The bent scarlet feather that comes loose in his fingers is punishment enough. Lucifer glared darkly at the offending item in his hand. He hated moulting. 

The human snorted as placed his armful of books on the table with a soft thud, making Lucifer jump slightly and only helping to sour his mood even more. 

“I’d have thought you would be used to seeing stray feathers by now.”

Lucifer shifted his glare from the feather to the human. And to think moments earlier he had been admiring the annoying little beast. When he spoke, there was a distinct growl rumbling under his breath, “Having feathers attached to you in no way lessons the distaste one feels at seeing them broken. You have bones. Would you be unaffected if I was to remove one from your finger and give it to you?”

“Yeah, so not the same thing, but whatever.” 

The human made a big show of sitting prim and proper in the chair, sparing what had to be at least the fifth look of disgust at where Lucifer was now sitting perched on the top of the backrest, one foot on the seat of his chair and the other resting on his knee to create a table on which he could rest his book. Personally, Lucifer thought it was a brilliant way to sit and much more comfortable than the human with a stick up his ass looked. 

“Show me.” Lucifer demanded in irritation. This was the third trip the human had taken around the library today. He read quick, Lucifer would give him that, even if he had chosen the thinnest books the first two times. 

“Would it kill you to say please once in a while?” The human replied with a heavy sigh.

“Probably.” He snapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for the human to show his choices. This was all part of the game. The human was allowed to read anything, as long as he could justify his choice and discuss it after. 

“This one’s a book on the elements and their affinities. There’s also two angel history books.”

“I have a lot of history books pet. At least half of them are on the Angels. Be specific.”

“‘The Reformation’ and ‘Creation from Light.’”

“Oh, how interesting. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about those two. And I don’t doubt for a second you will have something to say.”

The human shrugged, tucking his long hair behind an ear. “To be honest, I don’t know much about angels or your history, so I don’t really have much to compare it too.”

Lucifer pouted. “A pity. We will make that your top priority I think. You will leave the elemental book for now and focus on the histories. Once you have finished those two, you can find ‘Eden’ and ‘The Betrayal.’”

“Woah! Wait a second! What if I don’t want to only ready history? You have more books than I could ever read in a lifetime, I want to read what I enjoy, not what you think I should read.”

Lucifer frowned, his head tilting once more as this strange human defied him yet again. It was almost as though he forgot he was a slave. The human wasn’t deterred in the slightest; he had stubbornly picked up elemental book and was glaring right back at Lucifer, as though daring him to start a fight. 

In the end, it was the archangel who gave up, rolling his eyes and looking back at his own book. “You can read what you like, but your here because it amuses me to have you here. If you stop amusing me, perhaps I will no longer enjoy having you here. Then you won’t be able to read any books at all. The choice is, of course, all yours.”

He kept his voice easy and calm, as though they were discussing the weather and not like he had just delivered a rather thinly veiled threat.

In the quiet that followed, the human muttered something unflattering. Lucifer chose not to hear it, but he couldn’t stop the small smirk that crept over his lips. The human was clever and brave, he was defiant but he picked his battles and he wasn’t afraid to argue with Lucifer. He was proving to be perfect.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... Sorry for the long wait, it's been a rough couple of weeks and writing has not come easy (even though it's mostly typing up what's already written). Nice comments make me happy and keep me motivated?

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam was utterly absorbed in his book. In an act of petty defiance, he had started by reading the book about elements and elementals, he was glad he had too. It was fascinating and if any of it was even a little true... well it would revolutionise hunting.

According to the book all species had an affinity with a particular element and that gave them strength and weaknesses. For example, daemons were fire, they could withstand high temperatures and many enjoyed setting and controlling fires, but they hated cold and it affected their ability to function much quicker than any other species. When Sam thought back to the camp of damned souls, there had definitely been daemons there who hated the cold, dressing far warmer then strictly necessary.

Sam was so focused on his book that he almost fell out of his chair when something hard and cold bounced off his nose. He jumped up with a squawk, book held ready to defend himself if needed as he looked for his attacker.

“I don’t know if I should be amused you think a book can save you from attack, or angry you are using my priceless possessions as a weapon.”

Sam’s eyes focused on the angelic asshole he was stuck with. The sparkling bright blue eyes indicated he was going with amused and Sam gave him a bitch face. One which only got worse when he noticed the small cube of cheese held between two long and elegant fingers, and pointed at Sam. Sure enough, there was a matching cube on the floor.

“Seriously? There are people starving in the world, probably right here, in this castle! And you, you’re throwing food?”

The angel grinned at him, taking a moment to pop the cheese in his mouth and chew, slow and thoughtful. “Well, I suppose it will make you feel better to know I was aiming for your mouth than.”

Sam spluttered, speechless. “No! What the fuck man!”

It was also a testament to how absorbed in his reading he was that Sam hadn’t even noticed the food arrive.

The angel shrugged, not the least bit bothered by Sam’s outrage. “Oh well, Eat. And for the record, all my pets eat well here. I never understood the point in the starving masses, it just leads to greater expenses down the line.”

With that the angel returned to reading, picking at the food as he went. At some point he had moved and was now straddling the seat of the chair, chin propped on the backrest and wings a chaotic spill of colour behind him. 

Not for the first time in the short day that Sam had known the angel, he longed to get his hands on those feathers, desperate to know if they felt as soft as they looked. He sighed contemplating ignoring the food on principle, but a loud gurgle from his stomach reminded him that he was only human. Besides, as long as he was sitting here, quiet and obedient, enjoying the luxury of the library, he was already betraying Dean. There was no sense in making himself weak and sick to appease his guilt.

The cheese was good, a strong nutty flavour that made his lip prickle. There was also a wide selection of fruit available, grapes, apples, little pieced of yellow flesh which burst with a sweet juice when he bit into them.

“Do you think the element stuff is true?”

Sam didn’t know what possessed him to address the angel, particularly after he made his opinion on Sam’s reading material known. Blue eyes flicked up to look at Sam, head tilting and really, what was with that? It was just plain strange and made him look like a bird. 

“There are elements, yes. Some lend themselves to certain magics, also true.”

He looked away, uninterested in this conversation. It made Sam angry. To have so much knowledge sat next to him, yet be unable to ask about it. For it to be hoarded and secret when it would save lies to share it. But more than that. It was a challenge. The angel didn’t think the topic was interesting enough to discuss, it was Sam’s job to prove him wrong. 

“I can see how you would be too afraid to share that knowledge. I mean it would be embarrassing if your entire kingdom could be wiped out by a snow storm.”

“It’s a foolish general who only has one breed of soldier. Knowledge doesn’t frighten me and neither do you pet. If you think that book will help you than by all means, read it.” The angel didn’t even bother to look up as he derided Sam and his goading. 

Rather than being offended... well he was a little, but rather than being distracted by the offense, Sam found himself curious as to what the angel was reading so intently. Before Sam could ask, the library door flew open and a short dark haired daemon dressed impeccably strolled over to them. 

“My lord, while I’m sure we are all greatly relieved to no longer risk instant death every time we bring you lunch, I’m afraid I really must drag you away from your pet moose. My oh my, but he is a fine specimen isn’t he. If you ever feel like sharing my lord...” The daemon didn’t look the slightest bit afraid of the angel, as his quick and probing red gaze slid up and down Sam’s body, lingering slightly on the wide shoulders and sculpted chest. 

The angel cleared his throat rather pointedly and the daemon’s gaze jolted back to his lord, not the least bothered at being caught staring. The angel himself was frowning, brows drawn together and lips pursed. 

“What do you want Crowley?”

“Why sire, I am merely here as your loyal servant. A reminder that the council are due to meet, the budget is very much up for debate. I’m sure you are aware that the infighting is particularly vicious at present, especially with Lilith’s pet standing up so well where everyone else has failed so miserably... I only worry your majesty, that without your guidance, we shall make a mistake.” 

Sam listened carefully, keeping his expression blank and his gaze firmly fixed on the book in hand, trying not to give away how much attention he is actually paying. 

The angel sighed, making a low rumble of distaste. “Very well. You will wait for me.” The angel snapped his fingers and the daemon vanished, leaving nothing but slowly dissipating black smoke.

“Shut your mouth pet, your meant to be a hunter, not a country bumpkin.”

The angel was shutting his book as he spoke, getting to his feet in a rustle of feathers as his wings flapped and stretched before settling against his back once more. Sam’s eyes drifted to the right wing with its white bandages. The angel was holding it at a slightly awkward angle and it was clearly not as neat as its twin.

“You may stay or leave, but the books remain here.”

“Wait!” Sam spoke before his brain caught up with his tongue, eyes still fixed on the disarray. 

The angel paused, blue eyes looking at Sam without emotion, but waiting none-the-less. A single blonde brow rose in question and Sam felt himself blushing. “Uh.. your wing... I could.. I mean, ah... Lilith gave me a book about wing care, I haven’t gotten very far but I’m sure it’s her intent that I help you.”

Sam trailed off, face getting hotter by the moment until he was sure he must be glowing. What the hell possessed him to open his mouth and stammer like a virgin on his wedding night. 

The angel’s head tilted to one side once more, silently holding Sam’s gaze until the human looked away, shaking his head. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him look up to find the angel frowning at his injured wing as though it had personally offended him. 

Sam licked his lips, clearing his throat a little, “I could at least fix the bandages...”

The angel pouted a little and sighed. “Be quick about it, pet.”

“Sam.”

“Sam?”

“Uhh, my name, it’s Sam.” Even as he spoke Sam was on his feet, moving around behind the angel. He knew they didn’t have time for him to really explore the limb. He started by carefully unwinding the white bandage as the angel held his wing out stretched, stiff and steady. 

The wound under the bandage was nasty, the skin hot to Sam’s touch, neat stitches in a line over a ragged cut. Two flat, straight pieces of wood, one on each side, were attached to the wing bone in a way Sam had never seen before. He didn’t have time to study any closer. Quick fingers tugged the broken feathers loose and smoothed down the ones intact. Once they were neat and settled, Sam wrapped the bandage once more, tight enough to protect the wing, but not too tight to prevent movement and blood flow. 

“There. That looks better.” Sam stepped back, feeling a little glow of pride at a job well done. 

The angel’s sharp gaze studied the neat white bandages, the wing flexing a little bit before folding and settling once more on his back. It was still a little awkward, but at least it looked a lot neater. The blue eyes met Sam’s once more, holding them for a breath, before he inclined his head sharply. “Thank you Sam.”

Sam was a little surprised to realise the pupils were a little blown and the sharp cheekbones a little pinker than moments earlier. He cleared his throat, smiling a little. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

The angel didn’t linger any longer, spinning in his spot and sweeping from the room. As he passed one of the full bookcases, his injured wing accidently knocked off half a shelf worth of books onto the floor. If he noticed he didn’t stop or even pause for a moment. 

Sam glared at the shut door. “No Satan, I don’t mind tidying up after you. It’s my pleasure you ass.”

“You know, talking to yourself already is probably a bad sign.”

Sam jumped out of his skin as the other man sat in one of the empty chairs with a bright grin. He was strange, a skinny man with a fuzzy mess of hair above his slightly sticking out ears and eyes a little too golden a brown. 

Sam went tense, staring at the unknown who although he wasn’t doing anything, made Sam’s skin crawl and sweat prickle between his shoulder blades. His every instinct told him he was in danger. 

The man’s chin lifted and his nostrils flared as he appeared to breathe deeply. “Relax would you, just because I can eat you doesn’t mean I will. I just want to talk.”

Sam felt the blood drain from his face, this was a lupinotuum and if the three moon pendant was an indication, a werewolf. A species known for spontaneous violence and eating human hearts. Shit.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean was washing up in the bucket of freezing water when Ellen clapped him on the shoulder. “You did good today Dean. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to the youngest pups. They aren’t ready for training but they need a tonne of exercise. Think you’re up to it?”

Dean groaned. “Is it easier then chopping and hauling?”

“Oh hell no!” That was from Jo who had appeared on his other side. She grinned cheerfully at him, washing her own hands and arms. 

“Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have aggravated the boss-man after all.”

“Azazel? Trust me, if he put you here it’s a good thing.” Ellen remarked, but Dean shook his head.

“No, I mean the angel dude.”

Jo whistled. “You insulted Satan and lived? I thought you said you weren’t stupid, or are you just suicidal?”

Ellen also looked like she was re-evaluating her opinion of Dean. “Well smart or not I can’t comment, but I once saw the angel kill a demon because he coughed. The man is violent with a hair-trigger, you are safer with the dogs. Believe me, that is saying something.”

Dean laughed. “At least I’ve got good company here, but uhh, I don’t suppose you know where I can get some food? I’m starving.”

Jo snickered first mock punching Dean’s arm, and then in a move worthy of Sammy at his most childish, she proceeded to dry her hands on his linen shirt. “We get grub to our room, I assume it’s the same for you.”

“Oh come on Jo! Don’t be that sort of a girl, feeling a guy up with no follow through.”

“Enough both of you. Where’s your bunk Dean? Jo will take you back.”

“I, uhh, don’t actually have a clue. Meg led me through a damn maze to get here.”

Jo rolled her eyes, “Figures a man wouldn’t pay attention. I bet you were too busy ogling Meg’s ass! Who’s Meg anyway?”

“Blonde daemon girl? The one who brought me here.”

“Well I wasn’t watching that now was I!”

“Cut it out. Jo go get food, Dean, you can bunk with us until told otherwise. They normally put us in faction barracks anyway.”

“Girls and boys both? Doesn’t that... well you know.” Dean waggled his brows to get his point across, earning a flat look of disapproval from Ellen and a laugh from Jo. The look got aimed at Jo instead and she grinned at her mum but held her hands up and began backing away. 

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Dean watched her go for a moment before looking back at Ellen, “So factions?” Dean prompted as he followed her in a different direction.

“You will get the picture as you settle in, but basically there are five factions, each ruled by a member of the council. Each faction has a role and their own slave army. We get treated differently by our masters and that leads to tensions between different groups. For the most part you won’t see anyone from a different faction other than Lilith’s slaves, who do food and clothing.”

“Right. And uhh, which faction are we exactly?”

Ellen rolled her eyes again. “You really are green! We are part of Azazel’s faction. Military.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully, it all made a great deal of sense. He was only half paying attention to the route but it was already far more straight forward. In half as much time and up only four flights of stairs, Ellen was opening the door to the room Dean had been in. 

“Whoa! What? I went down seven flights to get to the dogs, how did we only go back up four?”

Ellen laughed, “This place is weird. Some of the floors slope. To be honest I have no idea how it works and I don’t think anyone else does either. I suspect that Meg took you the long way for shits and giggles.”

“That bitch! You know, when I break out of here, I will make a stop off just to gank her.”

The look that earned him was one of gentle pity. “Oh Dean, the only way your leaving is in a coffin. I was here for five years before I gave up trying. I made 15 attempts and lost more friends and family then I care name. In all that time I only made it out the palace once and as you see, I didn’t get far even then.”

Dean swallowed and looked away, shrugging a little, “My kid brother is out there somewhere.”

Ellen looked him over slowly before nodding a little. “I’ll help if I can, but I won’t risk my Job. I lost her dad and I won’t lose her too.”

“Thank you Ellen.” Those three little words held all the gratitude that Dean possessed. 

Jo returned shortly after with a large pot of stew and bread rolls to share. Dean was famished and the food was surprisingly good. He probably ate more than his fair share as he listened to mother and daughter share what they know about the palace and its inhabitants. In particular it’s weaknesses and those who live there.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	7. Chapter 7

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer was bored, bored, bored. He hated these meetings. He hated Azazel with his slimey superiority complex and attitude of “This is for your own good sire.” He hated Asmodeus as well. The man would drone on and on for hours about... Well Lucifer didn’t actually know because he had never paid attention for long enough to figure out the end point. Even his little Lilith had an agenda to get across. He liked her, even though she gave him the creeps, but even she was playing her own game with her own rules.

As annoying as the Daemons all were, by far the worst part of these meetings was that they never agreed on anything! The whole of the last hour had been spent arguing the first item on the list. Something about shoes? Or was it blankets?

Lucifer yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth, right in the middle of Asmodeus’ point. In the blink of an eye, all attention was focused on the archangel where he hung upside down in his chair, feet in the air and head almost touching the floor. As usually his wings were in a chaotic sprawl around him, or at least the non-injured one was. His right wing however was draped over his chest and lap, partly to make it more comfortable, and partly to enable him to run cool fingers along the tingling edge. It had the convenient of helping to hide the unfortunate erection his pet’s... Sam’s... clever fingers had caused, which refused to go away. 

“Sire?” Asmodeus looked utterly fed up. Maybe he bored himself as well as everyone else? Lucifer couldn’t imagine having to put up with that drone all day.

“Keep going Asmodeus. I for one am deeply fascinated by your thoughts and can think of nothing I would rather do than listen to you talk about...” He paused, blinking and trying to summon the current topic to mind, “Shoes.”

There was a loud snort of laughter, quickly muffled, from one side of the room. The vein in Asmodeus’ forehead was doing that throbbing thing it did when he got really angry. “No? Blankets than.”

He watched in idle curiosity as Asmodeus’ face got more and more red. Could daemons explode? It was beginning to look possible. The other daemons were of course all delighting in Asmodeus’ embarrassment, Azazel looked particularly smug and Lucifer belatedly realised that there was a power play occurring between the two men which he really should have been aware of before now. He sighed, letting his legs fall sideways as he twisted around until he was sitting ‘normally’.

“Asmodeus, you know I value you’re opinion on matters of internal discipline and safety, however Azazel has always had my utmost trust in matters of the military. If this matter is important to him, then I am positive he has planned it appropriately. I am certain Crowley will be only too willing to make it happen.”

Lucifer leaned back, glancing at the short red-eyed daemon. If he could trust his financial advisor with anything, it was to help smooth over Lucifer’s mistakes. The daemon could also be relied on to keep the power balance stable. Crowley chose no side, instead manipulating all the other players to get his own way without them realising. For the most part, it suited Lucifer just fine. As long as he didn’t over reach himself nor do something that could come back to bite the archangel then it was fine. 

“Of course sire. It is always best to test a soldier before they encounter real danger. While of course it does pose an increase risk of internal safety, I think we all agree Alistair and Asmodeus are more than able to manage. I will ensure the budget stretches far enough to make this a real test.” Good old Crowley, able to summarise an hour long argument in three sentences.

Lucifer settled back into his chair, crossing his legs and sparing a moment to adjust himself in his still too tight pants. Azazel was still looking a little too smug for Lucifer’s taste, but at least Asmodeus looked a little mollified. There was time yet to reverse the power shift. 

Lucifer sighed, his wings shifting in an attempt to get comfortable, the feathers puffing up before slicking back down again. He wondered briefly what his daemons would think if he let his pet... Sam... groom his wings during these meetings. His cock throbbed in a firm reminder that it had been since someone other than him touched his wings to be thinking such thoughts without consequences. And really, was he some sort of teenaged human incapable of self-control? Focus!

Damn Sam and his clever fingers on sensitive wings. This was going to be a very long meeting.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam licked his lips, eyes flicking to either side as he looked for a weapon or an escape route. The werewolf just watched him looking more than a little amused at Sam’s reaction.

“Who are you?” Sam demanded, puffing his chest up and moving carefully to keep the angel’s abandoned chair between himself and the threat. 

“My name is Garth Fitzgerald IV. I work in the collections. I was just curious who you are to have unsupervised access to the library. You don’t work for Dagon or Ramiel. I would know if you did.”

“I’m Sam.”

“Okay Sam. You smell human, so tell me, what makes you special?”

“I... I’m not special? I don’t know what you mean. I’m...” Sam sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this as a defence. “I’m just a slave. Lilith bought me. I really don’t know anything else, I’ve only been here a day.”

The werewolf tilted his head to one side, golden eyes shining as he looked Sam over, before slowly nodding. “Ah, so you’re Lilith’s power play. Seems like you landed better than the others did at least. Maybe the Boss-man will finally be less of a dick to everyone. Anyway, I should get back to work before Bobby comes for my ass, if you need help with anything give me shout. Try not to touch too much, most of this stuff is dangerous.” 

The skinny man stood up, causing Sam to tense once more, but he didn’t come any close, just walking around the tables and heading towards the exit. “See you around Sam.”

The werewolf paused as he passed the mess the archangel had made, stopping to rescue the books. “Oh Sam, you should read this one.” Garth held up a battered leather journal for Sam to see before leaving it on the floor when he was done picking up the rest of the books. 

Sam didn’t reply, just watching until the werewolf left before he let out a shuddering breath. The encounter had reminded Sam rather starkly that he wasn’t free, this wasn’t a good situation and worse of all, and he didn’t know where Dean was. He needed to find his brother. He needed to get them both out of here. 

Sam took a deep breath, moving back towards the table, he looked at the books for a long moment, undecided. It seemed he was free to walk around... he should scout the palace, learn the layout, find out what he could. He should be thinking about escape and Dean. But the books with all their knowledge were right there. How many lives he could save if he stayed a little longer, learnt a little more. The angel clearly knew a lot about the world and the species who called it home, he would be willing to share, Sam was sure of it. So what if his thoughts were also guided by the thought of soft feathers and strong muscles, bright blue eyes and that smirking face...

Sam growled softly. He was angry at himself and the way his thoughts kept turning. With a noise of annoyance he picked the books up and stalked through the shelves to replace them. He also stopped to pick up the journal Garth had left, about to put it away when a strange symbol embossed on the back caught his eye. It was the same symbol tattooed on both his and Dean’s chest. 

Sam looked around; quickly checking there was no one there, before he flipped the journal over and took a peak. His breath rushed out with a loud gasp, his father’s writing with its tight printed letters. Sam snapped the journal shut, looking around once more before carefully shoving it into his jacket pocket. 

It had been almost seven years now since John went missing, leaving Sam and Dean alone. They had looked, followed his trail for months afterwards. Even when they finally gave up, they would still hear a rumour of a human hunter and check it out, just in case. In fact, they had been following a rumour about John when they were caught by the daemon slave train. It was possible that the same fate befell John. It would explain why he never came back. 

Every other thought and plan Sam had was forgotten as he left the library, rushing back along the way he had come to his little room, hand clamped tight on the journal in his pocket and desperately hoping he doesn’t run into anyone.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean yawned loudly, stretching to crack his neck and back. He was still stiff and sore, the hard labour he was doing each day did not help. The last two days he had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Not today. Something Dean had said yesterday had jarred a nerve with Ellen and after dinner she had whisked him away.

Now Dean was sat on an old crate in a store room while Ellen lent against the wall keeping watch. Despite what she had said about the factions, it appeared there was one exception; Ellen had explained the group was founded by her late husband. He had died in the last attempt, along with a significant number of the group. The remaining members had all lost friends and family. They didn’t give up, just slowed down and got smaller. 

The door opened and a handsome lamia entered along with an older grizzled man. They were introduced as Benny from the kitchen and Bobby from the library. Both men greeted Ellen warmly but quickly became colder when they spotted Dean. Before either man could say anything, the door opened again, this time admitting two middle-aged women, Donna and Jodie. Ellen made the introductions as everyone found a seat. 

“You know I have nothing but respect for you, Ellen, but you have been absent for many years. Why are you back now? And with a stranger in tow?”

It was Bobby who gave voice to the concerns of the group. Ellen gave them a tired smile as she gestured to Dean. “Tell them. Explain why you need to get out. Tell ‘em who you are.”

Dean was a little confused by the weary look Ellen was giving him along with the quiet demand, but he didn’t feel like arguing. If these people could help him get out, help him find his Sammy, then he would do whatever was asked of him. 

“My name’s Dean Winchester and I was born in Eleutheria. When I was four, daemons raided our city and many humans died or were taken, my mother included. My dad swore revenge and he left, taking me and my brother with him. We hunted daemons, lupinotuum, lamia, anything that prayed on the weak. We freed slaves where we could, helped humans escape and make it to safe spaces. When my dad went missing, me and Sammy, we carried on in his name. The last thing he said to me was watch after your brother. I never found my dad, but I’m damned if I’m letting Sam go.”

His impassioned speech was met with silence from the group. Everyone there had a similar story after all. In the end it was the short haired brunette, Jodie, who broke the silence, talking to Ellen. “You think it’s the same?”

“Yes.”

She whistled, shaking her head a little, “And didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what? You know where Sam is?” Dean snapped, getting to his feet and looking around desperately. 

“No, not Sam.” Ellen soothed softly, but she seemed to hesitate, not able or not willing to say the truth. 

“Aww, balls. Just tell the kid already El.” The gruff human grumbled, removing his hat to run fingers through greying hair before putting his cap back on. 

Everyone looked back at Ellen, the wait clearly placed on her to tell Dean whatever it was that everyone here seemed to know already. Ellen opened her mouth, but before she could speak, there was a sneeze behind Dean. This was swiftly followed by a second and everyone jumped, turning to face the source of the sound. It was Benny who acted, seeming to move quicker than the blink of an eye to reach behind the crate and single handedly lifted a small blond girl over and onto the floor. 

Everyone but Ellen relaxed as soon as they recognised Jo. “I thought I told you to wait in the room? How do you even know we were here?”

“I have as much right as anyone to be here mum! I’m not a child, and I don’t want to be a slave any more. I would rather die young then live to be old and never know freedom!”

“Go home Jo!”

“I have no home!”

“Ellen, let the girl stay. She’s as clever as you are and as talented as her dad. She can help.” Bobby was clearly trying to be the voice of reason and earned a relieved look from Jo as well as a death glare from Ellen who stepped right up into his face.

“She will die!”

“Everyone dies at some point Ellen. It’s more a question of whether her life has meaning when she does.” Benny had a smooth drawl to his voice that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He wouldn’t mind hearing that smooth voice rough with arousal. 

Jo folded her arms, expression set and stubborn. It was clear she wouldn’t leave without a fight and Ellen seemed to deflate, looking tired and suddenly very old. She turned back to Dean. 

“My William organised this group, I told you? Well he didn’t do it alone. Bobby, Gordon, William and John all worked together. I think John was you’re father.”

Dean sat silently as he tried to process that, his mind jumping from one though to another. His dad was alive. And here. But why hadn’t Dean seen him? Why wasn’t he at the meeting?

“Where? Where is he?” A sudden thought hit and Dean’s throat closed up as he gasped out, “you said was...”

Bobby shook his head, bowing slightly and avoiding eye contact. The entire group did, except Jo who looked at him with something akin to pity, and Benny who looked on in silent assessment. “Ah son, I’m sorry. Gordon was... He betrayed us all. The escape went wrong and John... He tried to save us, sacrificed himself so we could escape.”

Jodie reached out, grabbing Dean’s arm and squeezing as she took over. “Last we saw, Alistair had him. Me and Donna? We’ve looked for him, as deep in the pit as we dare, but we never found him. I’m sorry Dean, but he’s been down there for years... no one survives that long.”

It was like a physical weight settled on Dean’s shoulders. A part of him had always known his dad was gone, but it get so close to having him be alive, only for that to be taken away was all the more bitter.

Jo slipped next to him, giving him a hug as the rest left him time to process. Dean could hear the others talking in soft voices, and eventually he forced himself to let go of those mixed emotions and focus back in on the conversation, just as Bobby said, “We need someone on the inside. Someone close to the angel, who can know what he knows.”

Ellen sighed. “I have an idea, but it’s dangerous and it won’t be easy.”

Benny laughed, “Everything is hard and dangerous here. Tell us your plan.”

“Ramsey is due to give birth any day now. If we take one of the pups, I can tell Satan she rejected him. I can take him the pup.”

Donna shook her head, looking more than a little confused, “I like puppies as much as the next person, but I don’t see how that helps us.”

“He loves the dogs, more than any slave, daemon or angel. He will let the pup stay with him, and maybe he will let me stay too, to help care for it.”

All of the adults shook their heads, each making noises to say it wouldn’t work or wasn’t possible. Jodie and Donna didn’t think it would work, while Bobby and Benny said that Ellen was too old to attract the attention of the angel. Dean and Jo on the other hand were protesting because the thought of getting a pup away from the hellhound was the insane. Dean may only have worked with the dogs for three days, but even he knew it was a death wish.

“No way mum, it can’t be done! Ramsey will kill you!”

“If anyone is risking their life for this, it will be me! Come on Ellen, you know it makes sense.”

“Dean you don’t know enough about the dogs to do this.”

“Wait, Ellen. This idea is stupid and you’re all a bunch of idjits if you think it will work in anyway. But the boy is more Satan’s style and you know it.” Bobby’s words were slow and reluctant almost as if he felt guilty just thinking about it. 

“I’ve already met the feathered asshole. I can make it work. You can tell me what I need to know about the dogs.”

“You’re all crazy!” Jo cried, getting loud in her frustration, before slapping a hand over her mouth as there was a strange sound down the corridor outside and everyone held their breath, waiting to see if they had been caught.

The footsteps passed with nothing happening and slowly the group relaxed once more. The conversation resumed, but this time it was quieter and focused on how they can make the plan work. Jo glared at them all, shaking her head but joined in offering advice to Dean.

~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing Luci in this chapter, I made myself laugh at him in that council meeting, our mighty ruler of hell too busy daydreaming about his Sammy to pay attention. (^_^)
> 
> I hope they don't all come across as really out of character, or anything... and also, I know it's going really slow... I mean, eventually things will happen? I promise. I'm trying okay, there's just a lot to get through first! :(


	8. Chapter 8

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam shut the door to his cell firmly, kicking off his shoes and pulling the journal free of his pocket as he removed the jacket. He was desperate to read the journal, his dad’s journal, but he couldn’t risk it being found. He didn’t know if he would be locked in like last night, or if Ruby would come to taunt him, or maybe the girl from the morning, (Claire? Charlene? Charlie?) would be back with more food.

He looked around the small room, trying to think where the best place to put it would be, before eventually he decided on the wardrobe, under the folded blankets. When Sam opened the wardrobe door he was a little surprised to see someone had dusted and filled it with clothing. Everything was in a similar style to what he was currently wearing, neat white linen trousers and soft cotton shirts. There were even some silky looking shorts which looked as though they were for either wearing under the trousers or for sleeping in.

Sam looked around himself, half expected to see Ruby lounging in the corner waiting for him, but again the small room was empty, no one hiding waiting to jump out at him. Sam shook his head a little before slipping the journal under the double blankets and shutting the door again. He didn’t know what to do. A glance out the window showed the sky already darkening rapidly; it wouldn’t be long before he had no light left at all. 

He was hungry as well. Breakfast had been a long time ago and despite the angel’s urging he hadn’t actually eaten anything since. Since reading wasn’t an option yet, he decided learning more about the palace would have to take priority and with a final glance to make sure that it wasn’t obvious that he had a stolen book in his wardrobe, he left the cell once more and paused in the corridor outside. 

The halls here all looked the same, stone floors and walls interspersed with rugs or wall hangings and maybe the occasional window or wooden door. There was no way to know where to even begin, the odds of Sam getting hopelessly lost seemed pretty high, but at the same time... he had to start somewhere. 

Sam sighed and finally decided to head back towards the staircase, only this time he went down instead of up, figuring if the upper levels were the master’s realm, than the lower levels would have the slaves. 

His hunch proved right. The lower levels had far fewer rugs or hangings, the doors looked heavier and often had locks and bolts on them also, there was also less care taken. While the floors weren’t dirty as such, they clearly weren’t polished in the same way as they had been on the higher floors. There was also far more people, hurrying around, most looking human, although that wasn’t always a guarantee of species. Almost all of the slaves had a similar style of bracelets and collars as Sam was wearing, but occasionally someone in a neatly pressed uniform with black leather bands would pass him by. He couldn’t tell if they were slaves or free, but they all gave him a slightly sneering once over. 

After almost an hour of wandering the corridors, and following his nose, Sam finally managed to find what appeared to be a canteen. He hesitated at the edge of the doorway, watching what looked like hundreds of people sitting at long bench tables. And he was hungry, but that many strangers of all species? It seemed dangerous. 

“Ah, there’s our favourite little human. You were supposed to be with the master.”

Sam stiffed as hot breath caressed his ear and slim hands with long nails wrapped around his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder. 

“He had to leave.”

“I know. Council meeting. You should have returned to your room. I don’t appreciate having to hunt you through the palace. Can you imagine the embarrassment if we lost the master’s new toy five minutes after he put it down? Not to mention if something happened to you, it could start a faction war!”

Sam sighed, turning slightly to try and look at the daemoness behind him. “I went back to my room, but I was hungry and you forgot to tell me how I get food around here.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, pulling back, but hooking a single finger through the thin silver collar Sam wore, giving it a little tug to get him to follow. “If you had stayed there then one of the slaves would have brought you food. You work for Lilith, you don’t get to eat in the canteen, you serve in the canteen. Or at least you would if the master wasn’t so fond of you.” 

She gave him a final smirk over her shoulder before letting go of his collar and leading the way with a steady sway of her hips. Sam couldn’t help but check out her ass, which looked particularly fine in her tight pants. He sighed again following behind her. He was both relieved he didn’t need to go into the canteen, but also disappointed that his explorations were being cut short, even if there didn’t seem to be any consequences for it. 

“Oh Sam, your destined for great things. You are the chosen one. Don’t you realise how special that makes you? The master has chosen you! He hasn’t taken someone into his confidences in decades! I mean seriously Sam, you are something else.” Ruby was positively gushing as she spoke, her eyes shining and face alight with joy as she kept snatching glances back at him.

“Right. I get to be a whore for the rest of my life. Real special.” Sam couldn’t stop the sarcasm from creeping into his voice but he managed not to insult the angel. He doubted that would go well.

“I know right now you can’t see it, but you will one day. The master is... he’s our father Sam, our saviour. Daemons, our ancestors, they destroyed their own lands, raped and pillaged and all that jazz. The land was dead and dying and the Daemons going along with it. The master, he found us. He told us to stop, showed us a different way. He took us from the dead land and brought us here, he keeps us from fighting each other, gives us space for our basest desires, and nurtures our strengths. Without the master’s interference, Sam, all of daemon kind would be dead. But he’s lonely. He’s an archangel, untouchable, so far from our reach. Even the angels aren’t on the same level as him. For all these years he’s been alone Sam, until you.”

Ruby stopped, turning around and resting her hand on Sam’s chest, looking at him with her black eyes. “Sam, you will be our king. You will rule alongside the master. There is nothing you won’t be able to do.”

Sam felt a chill slide down his spine, the hair on the back of his neck rising with the intensity of Ruby’s gaze. He swallowed hard before finally giving a tiny little nod in acknowledgement, guessing that she wouldn’t let him go until he agreed at least in some way. Even after that she kept watching for a moment more before sighing and turning back around. 

“I’ll show you the way to the kitchen, introduce you to Benny. From now on it will be your job to fetch the master his breakfast in the morning. He’s always up with the dawn, so you will need to wake up early, and if you plan on eating first, then you need to leave time for that too. You saw your clothing? The master likes his pets well dressed and clean. I’m trusting you to make sure you live up to our expectations.”

Sam kept quiet as he followed Ruby, listening to her instructions. Ruby liked to talk, and she shared information freely, most of it wouldn’t be any help in an escape attempt, but every now and then she would drop a gem, seemingly without even realising. She introduced him to several of the key slaves and the apparently free Lamia who still chose to serve the master. Sam neither liked nor trusted Benny, and it felt immediately like the feeling was mutual. He also met Charlie again, the red headed slave from that morning, who gave him a cheerful smile and promised to help him get up in the morning and keep to the times dictated by Ruby. 

Eventually, tray in hand, Sam and Ruby headed back to his cell. “Hey Ruby, is there any chance that I can get a light to read by?”

“Read what?”

“The book you and Lilith gave me, the one about wing care. I noticed the Master’s wings are looking a little ragged and I thought... well that’s my job really isn’t it? But I didn’t get a chance to finish reading this morning.”

“Well look at you, already taking your job seriously!” Ruby laughed softly but still she stopped partway back to Sam’s room to take one of the strange glowing balls off the wall and placed it on the tray with his dinner. “There you go, but don’t stay up too late. The master won’t be impressed if you fall asleep on him!”

Sam gave her a weak smile and quietly agreed as he stepped into his room. He turned back just in time to see the door shut and a soft click of a lock. He sighed again. At least he had the light to read his dad’s journal by. 

Despite his promise to Ruby, Sam quickly lost track of time. He could hear his dad’s voice in the words he had written. It was a journal started from when Sam and Dean were little, when they first had to leave their home, some of the early stories Sam remembered. This was how Sam learned to read and write after all. But the journal went on, right up to the point John was following the daemon slave train, and a yellow eyed daemon called Azazel who John thought was the leader of the raid that killed Sam’s mother and changed his life forever. He doesn’t know if John ever found the daemon, the journal stops after that. Sam can only guess that his father was captured by the daemons he was hunting, that he got enslaved like Sam is now, and the journal was taken away, given to the master as a gift. 

Sam felt breathless, filled with the thought that maybe, just maybe, the angel had read the journal, had gone to find the author, maybe he met John Winchester, maybe he knows who he is, where he is. 

Sam sat on his bed, head in hands, and leather journal on the sheets between his spread knees. He had to find out more, he had to ask the angel. The only way Sam can think of doing that is to sneak the book back into the library and then ‘choose’ it in one of their sessions. He would have to wait, he would have to be patient, but then Sam had always been patient. 

He spent a little while longer picking at the leftover food on his plate and skimming through the wing care book, but his mind wouldn’t settle.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer rolled his shoulders back, the wings flexing and flaring in time to the motion. The first hints of the morning sun were just turning the eastern horizon a lighter shade of grey and casting the mountains in shades of blue shadow. He felt a restlessness in his bones and muscles; the ever present longing to be up there in the clouds, mixing with a sense of... wrongness.

The weather was changing rapidly, a hard frost covering the stone of the balcony and there was a weight to the air that spoke of the first snow before too long. Not that cold bothered Lucifer, there was a certain beauty to the world wiped clean; a white blanket thrown over the world to hide the sin beneath. But with the snow and winter came cloud and storms. His siblings would visit less often, the chance of flight would be restricted, and the sun would be hidden. 

Lucifer sighed once more, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the wall. The cold was also making the persistent ache in his wing worse. That combined with the near constant itchiness of loose feathers had feeling unsettled. He wanted a distraction. He also wanted a wing grooming.

The pink and red feathers immediately puffed up in delight at the thought of strong fingers stroking and touching. Sam had strong hands and long fingers. The little bit of neatening he had done before had felt more than nice. Lucifer couldn’t help but imagine those clever fingers exploring a little more, the hesitant awe fading into confident competence. 

Lucifer licked his lips, his cock beginning to thicken as he tried to decide which of his brothers Sam would groom like. Last night he had channelled Raphael’s calm efficiency, businesslike and to the point... but Lucifer doubted that would last long when the human realised just how much Lucifer liked having his wings touched. 

He could imagine him being like Gabriel, deliberately grooming against the grain just to make Lucifer squirm, alternating between smoothing them all flat and scrunching them in his fingers just to feel the feathers fluff and bristle. Gabriel also liked to tug them loose, one at a time when Lucifer least suspected just to hear him yelp. Little brat that he is. Yes, Sam might be like Gabriel.

But he might be like Michael. Lucifer gave a full body shudder at the thought. His beautiful wings flared up and arched around him, showing off their size and colour, feathers puffed up as thick as they can go. His cock was achingly hard in his lightweight sleep pants and his wings were leaking oil, going shiny and wet with excitement. Michael’s wing groomings were simultaneously the best thing in the world and the worst sort of torture. 

Michael was strong and he was dominant, a perfectionist with an eye for detail. He was also a massive asshole. Michael knew exactly what it did to Lucifer to have his wings touched so intimately, yet his big brother simply smirked and offered to tie Lucifer down if he couldn’t stay still on his own. Michael insisted that every single feather had to be perfectly neat and in exactly the right position before Lucifer was allowed to move and he was not the least bit shy about pinning Lucifer flat with his own ridiculously strong wings. 

Sam was strong for a human. He wasn’t frightened or intimidated by Lucifer or any of the daemons either. Sam had also shown a spiteful side... reading a book Lucifer told him not to, seemingly just to annoy the archangel... Yes. Sam would groom like Michael. And Lucifer _really_ wanted to try that. 

He groaned helplessly, shifting his weight and letting his head fall forward to rest on one arm. The other slipped off, hand palming his aching cock through his light sleep pants. Great. Now his injured wing ached, his feathers itched and he was ridiculously horny to boot. He couldn’t even appreciate the rising sun.

Lucifer pouted slightly. He could either call a sibling to come and help him with this difficulty. Wait until Sam felt confident and cocky enough to proposition without it feeling like coercion, or take care of this problem on his own. Since both the first two options require a level of patience Lucifer does not feel up to at present, he forced the hand squeezing his cock to let go long enough to shove his sleep pants out the way. A quick grope over his shoulder covered his fingers in enough wing oil to ease the way and long slightly chilled fingers were wrapping around his length as the scent of fresh pine and winter frost filled the air. 

“Hello?”

Lucifer froze. His entire body went tense as he bit his lip hard to keep the whine of need inside, his eyes squeezing shut in disbelief at his luck. Of all the slaves and daemons in Baratrum, it had to be Sam bringing his breakfast. And of course his inquisitive little pet couldn’t just put the food on the table and go, or even wait in a corner like a normal slave would. No. His little pet has to come and catch Lucifer with his hand in the cookie jar so to speak and then proceed to sound concerned about it! 

“Umm, Sir? You okay over there? God it’s cold.”

Sam’s voice was now significantly closer and Lucifer with great reluctance forced himself to release his hard cock and tug his pants back into place. There was nothing he could do about the flush on his cheeks, bitten lips and blown pupils. And while the human might not guess what the position of his wings and way his feathers were might signify, Sam would have to be blind to not guess what Lucifer had been doing.

He straightened up, turning to glance over his shoulder at the human. “I am fine pet. Just enjoying the early morning sun. I assume you have brought food?”

Lucifer watched as the human’s eyes widened slightly, a flush creeping over his cheeks as his gaze flicked over the archangel’s body and wings. They lingered slightly too long on Lucifer’s mouth before the human managed to drag his gaze away, looking out over the view instead. 

“Oh, umm, right. Yeah. Food.” He cleared his throat roughly, cheeks darkening as the human stood, hands held casually in front of himself and back straight. 

Lucifer licked his lips again, his gaze sliding down Sam’s body to those strong hands with those long fingers that triggered such wicked thoughts in his brain. “I need grooming.”

Lucifer jerked back, eyes going wide in surprise at himself. Had he seriously just said that out loud? He felt his face getting redder and quickly looked away, silently cursing himself and his fumbling. 

Sam for his part had remained silent for several long beats. “Oh. Okay. I’m still learning, but I uhh, I think I can manage. If you tell me when I do something wrong?”

He sounded so hesitant and uncertain. Not businesslike as Raphael would be, nor cheeky like Gabriel, and definitely not dominant like Michael. Lucifer sighed shaking his head silently. “No. Leave. Go to the library.”

The human didn’t argue or protest at all, the sounds of his slightly rapid breathing and quick footsteps fleeing the room. Lucifer groaned miserably, shoving his pants out the way and wasting no more time taking care of his rather obvious problem. He would not force the human and he clearly wasn’t ready. 

Lucifer wouldn’t touch another without permission, but there was no rule against fanaticising about it.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam shut the door with slightly more force than he had meant to before throwing himself back against it, panting hard. He grabbed his hair with both hands, letting his head thump back on the door several times.

What is wrong with him? His brother is missing, possibly dead, his dad is missing, almost certainly dead, he is a slave, literally the property of another being... probably the same being responsible for Dean and John’s missing and/or dead status, and instead of thinking about how to escape, Sam is popping a boner at the sight of the man!

Sam’s breath was laboured and his pants far too tight for comfort. Even with his emotional and moral crisis, he could still see bright blue eyes blown wide with need, pink lips plump and wet from being chewed on and those incredible wings flared wide. It had taken every inch of will Sam possessed not to pounce on the angel the second he had stated he needed his wings groomed. The desire to bury his fingers in those soft feathers and rut against that tight ass was like a physical force in Sam’s body. 

And the worst part was; Sam had a pretty good guess what the angel was doing behind the closed door. He shook his head and forced himself to move. If the angel was doing what Sam thought he was... and then he had to eat breakfast then Sam could take a little time to follow his example before heading to the library.

~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look... it's almost earning it's rating! Almost!


	9. Chapter 9

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer snarled, grabbing the daemon by the throat and lifting him off the floor. The daemons black eyes went huge and desperate as his hands clawed at the constriction, his feet kicking helplessly.

Lucifer’s wings mantled behind him, a very physical representation of his anger and pain. He watched coldly as the daemon’s face turned red then purple, lips going blue and eyes starting to bulge. He growled again, throwing the daemon away. He knew he was flying over the balcony, he didn’t care. Daemons were hardy, he probably wouldn’t die, and honestly, if he did? No great loss. 

The pain in his wing was like a hot poker to the joint, sending sparks and pulses through his every nerve and muscle. He had woken up stiff and itchy, the scratching under his skin of new feathers forming before the old ones were gone. The bandage wrapped by Sam several days ago had slipped and was offering less and less support. He had struggled to sleep and was not interested in dealing with foolish daemons today.

His mood had definitely not been improved by careless daemons touching what they had no right to! He didn’t know whose bright idea that creature was, but someone would pay for it.

“What the fuck Lucifer!”

Lucifer formed himself to take a slow deep breath, to ground and centre himself. He liked Sam and he would not take his ill-mood out on the human. 

“Good morning Sam. Would you be so kind as to arrange a bath for me? I feel the need to soak away my ill-humour.”

“No seriously, what the fuck! You just threw that deamon off the balcony!”

Lucifer frowned, turning to look at his human. “He sneezed on me.”

Sam’s laugh had a touch of hysteria attached; he was backed against the wall and glaring darkly at Lucifer.

“I don’t understand why you are angry Sam.” Lucifer tried to explain, he really did, but it was clear the human did not want to listen. Why did Lucifer need to explain a daemon can’t just go around touching an angel’s wings! Not even to wipe away the snot it just sprayed all over him.

Lucifer sighed, throwing himself into his chair. The throbbing was growing worse; a stabbing pain keeping pace to his pulse. His wings had always been overly sensitive. He felt both pleasure and pain more keenly then most other angels. He didn’t care what Michael said, it was nothing but the bane of his existence. All it took was a careless daemon jerking his wing and that’s it, agony for the rest of the day. 

He refused to argue with Sam. If the human wanted to act like a petulant child, so be it. But he could damn well do it elsewhere! Sam was dismissed and Lucifer spent a long while with his eyes shut, breathing deep and focusing his grace internally. He and his three siblings were the most elemental of all angels, they each had their talents and unfortunately, healing was definitely Raphael’s forte not Lucifer’s. He could help with the pain, but he can’t fix the complicated interaction between nerves and muscles, force his bone to knit or settle his feathers. 

With an unhappy noise Lucifer gave in, summoning a servant to run him a bath. The grace had helped a little with the throbbing, but his muscles had tensed instead. He was also acutely aware of the headache building behind his eyes. He couldn’t help but hope that a long hot bath with some long overdue self-wingcare would ease his mood and his pain and headache both. 

The first few moments of settling into the water was sheer bliss. Sweetly scented steam rose around him in a lazy swirl as tired muscles relaxed. Lucifer’s bath tub was huge, sized to accommodate the archangel with his wings. He didn’t often get his feathers wet, but sometimes, particularly during a moult, full submersion was necessary. 

Yes, the bath was definitely the right decision... if only his stubborn human had been willing to stay and read to him... or perhaps even help with the wing care... The only problem was that Lucifer had not anticipated one of his emergency symbols being pressed, because really, it had been fifty years since the last time someone had a problem that only Lucifer could solve.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam glared across the cold marble room at the beautiful angel. He felt betrayed. Over the past week he had spent time with a shockingly clever man, brimming with curiosity and funny to boot. He had made Sam laugh and think. Yes he had gotten angry, but it was passionate anger complete with a need to prove the man wrong. And that was without even considering the almost insane levels of sexual tension between them.

The angel he was standing in the room with right now was different. This was the cold and unforgiving monster that everyone has always been talking about. This is the man who literally just threw a daemon off the balcony for nothing more than sneezing near the angel when he was in a bad mood.

“I don’t understand why you are angry Sam. He was just a daemon. He probably didn’t even die, and if he did the world is hardly any worse off.”

“Just a daemon? Do you even hear yourself? It’s okay to kill because it was just a daemon! I’m just a human, is it okay to kill me too?”

“Of course not Sam. You’re not just a human. You’re smart for starters. I think you should calm down.”

“Calm down? This is insane! You’re literally insane! You kill someone for sneezing and yet I’m the unreasonable one!” Sam dragged his hands through his long hair. He was confused and angry. He wanted a fight, he wanted the angel to stop being so quiet and calm, to get angry right back so that Sam could hate him like he knew he should.

The angel sighed, those beautiful wings flaring out before settling once more with that hollow rattle. Sam knew the injured wing bothered him more then he would ever admit to. 

Lucifer threw himself down into his throne-like chair, one leg slung over the arm rest and the great wings sprawling around him like a lazily thrown rug. Sam’s eyes flickered over their length against his will, the feathers looking more and more ragged each day and Sam longed to get his fingers on them but the angel stubbornly refused to ask again and Sam couldn’t bring himself to offer. 

Sam scowled, angry at himself for once again getting distracted; stupid asshole angel with his sexy wings and unprompted violence. 

“If you are committed to throwing this temper tantrum of yours, you may as well leave. I keep you for your wit and intelligence; both appear to be missing today.”

The angel looked away, Sam already dismissed. It made the human’s blood boil.

“You’re an asshole Lucifer. Fuck you.” Sam made sure to slam the door behind him, a pet hate of the angel he was leaving behind. 

He stalked angrily down the corridor, taking silent satisfaction as he watched the daemons and other inhabitants of the palace jump out of his way. The rumour he had their Lord’s ear had spread surprisingly quickly, and with that rumour, Sam’s power and influence had grown. 

He didn’t have much contact with the higher daemons, but he kept his ear to the ground, talking to the lesser daemons, human slaves, lamia and lupinotuum who were willing to share gossip with him. They all thought for some reason that they could gain favour from their lord by gaining favour from his chosen slave. But there was no word from Dean. No one knew of him, no one had found him. 

All the influence, all the second hand power, wasn’t enough to get his brother back. It didn’t give him any information on his dad or how his journal came to be here. It made Sam feel sick with worry and full of guilt; every time he found himself enjoying a discussion with the angel, every time he forgot Dean, even for a moment and every time his mind drifted to think of fluffy pink feathers and strong callused hands, sinful lips and bright blue eyes. 

Sam growled, punching the wall he was next to and banishing those damn thoughts. He needed a drink and he needed work, preferably something physical and exhausting. He changed direction, heading towards the kitchen instead of the library. Benny would have work for him, he always did.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean collapsed back against the gate, panting hard and shaking with adrenaline. The small squirming and mewling pup shaking right along with him.

In the end Ramsey had a bumper litter, 13 tiny little pups. It was almost inevitable that there would be a runt from a litter that big. A pup too small and too weak to survive without help... The perfect pup for their plan. 

That didn’t make getting the pup away any easier. In the end it had taken all three of them to pull the extraction off, Jo and Ellen using all their knowledge of the dogs, all their relationship with Ramsey and all their skills to distract the new mother while Dean slipped into the pen and rescued the puppy. It had worked, but there was a cost. 

Dean looked around at Jo and Ellen. Jo’s arm was bleeding pretty heavily, soaking through the cloth on her arm, running over her hand and forming a spreading puddle around her feet. She looked pale and in shock.

Dean swore softly, wrapping the pup in his shirt and holding it close as he stumbled over to them both. They had risked too much to not protect the pup as much as possible. Jo hurt or not. 

Ellen was telling Jo it wasn’t so bad and not to worry, but her big scared eyes when she looked at Dean said otherwise. 

“What do I do?” Dean asked almost desperately. He could tell Jo was losing too much blood too quickly. 

“Summon the daemons maybe...” She swallowed hard and Dean spared her from more conversation. 

“Right. The daemons. They’ll get a doctor or something won’t they?” Dean looked around himself, searching for a way to call the daemons before his eyes landed on the strange symbol on the wall. He’d asked Ellen about it once. She had simply shrugged, saying it was for emergencies and summoned the daemons but there were consequences for using it. Nothing bad enough had ever happened for Ellen or Jo to risk the wrath of Azazel. Even when the last slave had died they didn’t bother. The slave was already dead, nothing the daemons getting there five seconds early could do. 

But this was different. This was Dean. And Jo was dying. He would take whatever consequences came. 

The second his palm came in contact with the strange symbol there was a blinding flash of white light and a crack like thunder followed by a squawk of protest and a rustling like a hundred birds taking flight. 

Dean blinked the dancing spots from his eyes and took in the sight of a rather unhappy angel. A very _naked_ and unhappy angel. A very wet, naked and unhappy angel who was glaring right back at him. Well shit. 

“Fifty years and no one has pressed the summons. I might have guessed it would be you.” 

“Jo’s hurt.” Dean’s brain was running in dizzy panicked circles, (which possibly focused a little too much on the very naked and very hot angel) but his mouth took over. He had a need to be addressed and the angel will address it, thank you very much. 

The unhappy expression changed to one of confusion as the angel followed Dean’s gaze, before he turned and stalked over to the two women. 

How the man managed to look so regal and aloof butt-naked and dripping wet, Dean had no clue, but boy was he impressive. 

He licked his lips, taking a moment to admire what was clearly a very fine ass before following awkwardly behind, still cradling the puppy who had gone quite and still in his arms. 

By the time he got close enough to the group to see what was happening, the angel had already removed the blood soaked cloth and was studying Jo’s arm while Ellen looked on anxiously. Jo herself looked to be struggling between staying awake and conscious and not staring at the angel’s junk inches from her face. 

After a moment of inspection, the angel shrugged a shoulder and wrapped a hand around Jo’s wrist while touching two fingers to her forehead, completely ignoring the cry of pain from Jo. 

White light flashed from between his fingers, over in the blink of an eye and the angel let go once more, as Jo collapsed backwards into her mother. He turned to glare at Dean once more, holding his hand out, palm up. When Dean didn’t fulfil the silent demand quick enough he made a noise of displeasure, clarifying for Dean’s confused mind, “The puppy.”

“Oh, right, here!” Dean passed the puppy over and the angel made the softest cooing sound Dean had heard coming from an adult man, before turning around and opening the cage door to Ramsey’s pen. Before Dean’s disbelieving eyes the angel returned the pup to it’s mother, all of their hard work undone, Jo’s near death utterly pointless. 

Dean pressed his eyes shut, forcing down the complicated and hopeless feelings with several slow deep breaths. He needed to focus. When he opened his eyes once more, he looked to Ellen and Jo. The former was supporting the latter with a look of awe still on her face. It wasn’t until Dean took the five steps needed to be within touching range that he realised why, Jo’s arm was as good as new, no wound visible at all. She looked like she was sleeping, face smooth and peaceful, instead of pinched with fear and pain. 

“The girl will need to rest. Ask for a meat rich diet for the next few days and no work for at least two. She will live. You will return her to her bed and then come see me.”

With that the angel walked away, those beautiful sunrise wings wrapping around his body. Dean wasn’t sure if that’s how the angel always walked or if that was a ploy to help hide his nudity. He would probably never know. He looked back at Ellen, shrugging slightly. Ellen helped to hold Jo steady long enough for Dean to get his arms around her and lift her bridal style while Ellen led the way back to the room they all shared. 

Neither of them spoke. The plan had gone as horribly wrong as it was possible to go, but Dean had been given an in. So maybe it wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer glared at the green-eyed human with an attitude problem. He was acutely aware of his nudity, but it was better to play it off as unimportant then to stand there with his hands covering his cock. He could feel the human’s eyes examining him, which seemed only fair since the human had been naked for their first meeting. But still, Lucifer had been enjoying his bath and he seriously did not appreciate having to walk all the way back to his room, dripping wet and naked.

The human’s excuse meant nothing to him, but he followed the look none-the-less, finding two more humans staring at him. Great, an audience, just what he always wanted. One of them appeared to be bleeding and he rather imagined that was the reason for his presence here. With a sigh Lucifer went to examine the injury. 

Although there was serious damage, the injury was relatively straight forward, an artery had been cut, hence the amount of blood, but no bones or tendons were damaged. He felt reasonably confident directing his grace into her arm and letting her body do the rest. It did nothing for his headache of course, which reappeared immediately with a vengeance, arching from one temple to the other. 

He released the girl and turned back to the annoying human, noticing the puppy for the first time. That explained how the human got hurt in the first place, by the size of the pup it was the runt, so clearly the human had more compassion then common sense. Lucifer rolled his eyes and held his hand out for the pup. He loved his hell-hounds and Ramsey in particular was his favourite, he could tell it was one of hers. For all that you should love your children equally, it just wasn’t true. 

And Lucifer worked very hard to cultivate an air of disinterest. He seldom appeared to know or care about what was happening, but in reality, there was very little that got past him. For example, he knew Ramsey was pregnant and due to give birth any moment. He also knew about the group of humans who planned and strived to escape. He didn’t blame them. Lucifer had spent much of his youth wanting freedom, from his father, from his brothers, from responsibility. 

The humans considered themselves slaves without realising they were here for their own protection. They worked, yes, but in exchange they were fed, given medicine, shelter, kept warm, clean and healthy. There were no predators and they didn’t have to worry about the seasons or the weather. It was a fair deal in his mind. 

But just like the sheep were too stupid to know they were safest in the field with the shepherd, humans were too stupid to know they were safest in the palace. What is a daemon if not a glorified sheep-dog after all?

The human had finally realised what was wanted and handed over the small pup. Lucifer carried him carefully into the pen to see his mother. The poor thing was cold and hungry. Ramsey hadn’t rejected it, he just wasn’t strong enough to complete with 12 siblings in a game were the strongest prevail and the weak move on. 

Lucifer wasn’t naïve. He knew he couldn’t return the pup to his mother and expect him to suffice, but he can give him a good chance in life. The milk from his mother will be rich in fat and nutrients and contain a boost to his immune system, it would help him to survive, maybe the difference between a few hours and a few days. 

Once he was done, he cradled the now sleeping pup close to his chest, wings and feathers wrapping tight around them both. He ached and itched, feathers coming loose with every move he made and the steady throbbing starting up once more with the cold.

He wanted to return to his rooms and finish his bath, but that was looking less likely. Lucifer dictated his orders to the humans, ones he thought the humans would be able to obey without argument and sent a prayer to Raphael. The puppy would need expect help before too long and they were the best placed to provide it. 

The archangel walked with his head held high, his wings preserved most of his dignity and the rest was a matter of manner. If you act like you have every right to be there, then you will be treated in the same way. Despite that, more than one daemon gave him a startled look. He could also see them scooping loose feathers out of the corner of his eyes. Daemons were so peculiar. They considered themselves smarted then humans but in reality they were all the same, just a different brand of stupid. 

Lucifer requested a tray of food from a passing slave as he entered his room before getting dressed one handed. He really hoped it wasn’t his Sam coming with the tray, he didn’t want to deal with the bitchy human in his current mood. With a sigh Lucifer settled himself on the soft rug in front of the lit fire, his wings wrapping around himself and trapping the warmth under his feathers, shielding them both. The recent use of grace was making his head throb more and more. Raphael better come soon. For his and the puppies sake.

~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! Those boys, I swear, it's like one step forward and two back again! Stupid Sam and his stupid morals getting in the way all the time. :(
> 
> (I am actually sorry about how long this story is taking to get anywhere, you guys did not sign up for this meander through a lost wood and I'm always surprised when anyone reads/comments/likes this thing coz I can't for the life of me figure out why.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, the last two weeks have been... pretty rough to be honest. Work has been very busy and very challenging emotionally, which has put me in a low mood, and that in turn makes my story ideas... sad. :( To add to that joy, I then had flu for a week! So yay.
> 
> Anyway. Have another chapter, it's changing lanes a little bit, but hopefully it works? Let me know either way :) I have no beta to check my work, so I rely on you lovely folks to let me know if things make sense or not.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam was not allowed to hide in the kitchen for long. Benny had sent him to haul wood for the fires, a boring and exhausting task just as Sam had wanted. But it was less than two hours later that Sam was summoned by Charlie. She stared at him with big green eyes full of pleading and utter desperation on her face.

“Sam please! He’s in such a bad mood! He already threw that daemon out the window, you said so yourself! He left Alfie with a bloody nose and he’s an angel, Sam. Everyone is saying he’s killed people too, Sam please, don’t make me go.”

“Let the asshole starve then Charlie. If he can’t be a decent person, why should we risk our lives?”

“Sam... He demanded it. We can’t just ignore a demand from the master. You know that.”

“As if he would ever come here to do anything about it.”

Charlie gave him a flat look like he had lost his mind. “That’s just swell, but you think Lilith won’t? It’s alright for you Sam. You walk around with his feathers in your hair like you don’t even notice. That’s not true for the rest of us! No, it’s fine, I get it. You’re not one of us anymore. I won’t ask you again.”

She gave him a tight smile and turned away. Sam let her get as far as the kitchen door before he followed with a groan, “Fine! What does the dick want anyway?”

Benny gave him a disapproving look. The Lamia wasn’t one for formality, but he showed respect to the lord and expected everyone else to as well. Kitchen staff were hard to train, he couldn’t afford to let them get sent to Alistair and his room of doom. 

Charlie looked around with a smile like bottled sunshine, the relief on her face was clear to see, before she pointed at a prepared tray resting on a pile of fluffy blankets. The tray had the usual wine, bread and cheese, but also had a small jug of milk and a plate with finely diced cooked chicken and raw meat.

“Uhh, you sure this is right?”

“You doubting my food, Sam? You may be Satan’s favourite, but you’re not mine and many consider human a delicacy.” The Lamia bared his wickedly sharp fangs at Sam in an easy grin. A reminder he wasn’t human and Lamia were well known to eat humans.

“Relax Benny. I was doubting the order not your ability to follow it.”

“Damn right. But it’s your job to deliver the tray, not question the Lord, so get on with it!”

The chef turned his attention away once more, dismissing Sam as unimportant. Sam had never liked the Lamia. He tried, but the man was distant and cold. He also appeared to hate Sam on sight, so the feeling seemed pretty mutual. 

Sam sighed as he carried the tray away with him, walking slowly towards the angel’s bedroom. He was still pretty pissed at the other man, but already the boredom was starting to set in and Sam was beginning to miss the irritating angel more than he was angry. After all, it’s not like Sam had never killed daemons before...

He didn’t bother knocking on the door, just tucked the blankets under his arm and balanced the tray on one hand before walking right in. In the past week, Sam had spent most of his time in either the library or the bedroom, only returning to his own room to sleep for a couple of hours. Truthfully, that didn’t happen every night either, twice now he had fallen asleep in a comfortable chair while still reading, only to wake up with a blanket tucked around him. Sam knew that if the angel asked for his forgiveness, he would give it in a second. 

“This is the weirdest snack you’ve ever asked for.” Sam’s smile dropped when he realised the angel wasn’t sitting at his table with a smug smirk aimed at Sam like the human had expected. It took him a long moment to spot the mound of pink and red feathers sat on the rug in front of the fireplace. 

“Uhh... Lucifer?”

The fluffy pink and red feathers parted as the blond head popped out. “Thank you Sam. Put it on the floor and you may leave.”

There was a strange whining sound from under the huge wings and the angel disappeared once more, the wings folding back down tight.

Sam frowned at the ball of angel as he followed his orders, putting the folded blankets and tray down on the floor. Once done, he couldn’t help but lean closer, trying to see what Lucifer was doing through the slightly ragged and puffed out feathers. “What’s going on?”

The angel appeared again, this time frowning, a look that would be significantly more intimidating if the angel wasn’t impersonating a hedgehog. “It does not concern you Sam. I already told you to leave, do not make me repeat myself.”

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry okay; I didn’t want to fight with you. I’ll be in the library when you’re ready to talk.”

There was no reaction from the other man as Sam quietly left the room. He felt worse now than when he entered. He didn’t know how the angel was able to do that to him. He would enter the conversation so sure of his position and yet five minutes later he would have done a complete U-turn and be agreeing with the smirking asshole. 

This morning Sam was certain the angel had no redeeming features and he never wanted to see him again... Now he was worrying he had blown his chance somehow. 

His steps towards the library were as slow and heavy as those to the bedroom but this time for completely different reasons.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean was dragging his feet as he walked down the corridor; he kept looking over his shoulder, back the way he had come. When he reached the top of the stairs there had been another figure walking in the opposite direction, too far for Dean to see clearly, but something about the gait... the height of the man, the long hair... Dean had shouted out, convinced for a second it was his Sam, but the other man didn’t even pause. If Sam was here, Dean would know, between bobby in the library or Benny in the kitchen, the girls on patrol, _someone_ would have seen Sam, would have told Dean. No. It was just desperation making him feel that way.

Another cause for his hesitation was due to not really knowing what the etiquette was when knocking on the door of a man who technically owns you, but less than an hour ago turned up naked to save your friend’s life. Eventually he decided that knocking and waiting was the best option considering why he was there. 

“Come in.” The voice was as smooth as ever, but far more distracted than the other two occasions Dean had heard it. 

The angel himself was sat on the floor; fluffy pink wings were wrapped around himself. The wings dropped down, still covering most of his body, but showing off the strong neck and shoulders. 

Next to him on the floor were some folded blankets and a tray with food and drink on it. The angel gestured nearby, but didn’t remove his attention from the puppy he was cradling close to his chest. He held a small rag of fabric to the puppy’s mouth, but the tiny creature was mewling pathetically as it tried to resist the cloth being pushed in his mouth. 

Dean was at a loss of what else to do, so he slowly lowered himself to the floor next to the angel. With nothing to do but wait, he took a moment to admire the soft feathers. As he followed the strong line of a wing, he couldn’t help but notice the white bandages wrapped around the arch of the right. The feathers around the bandage looked strange, dull and out of place, the white cloth also looked like it had slipped out of place, as though they hadn’t been replaced in a couple of days. 

Dean shifted in discomfort, his fingers itching to fix the mess of a bandage or straighten the feathers. He looked away, carefully holding his hands together to keep from reaching out. There was a stray feather caught in the rug and Dean plucked it up. Up close he could see the feather ran in shades of red and pink, darker near the rachis and lightening towards the tip of each barb. 

“What is the obsession you all have with my feathers? You don’t see me going around collecting you’re hair.”

Dean jumped slightly, looking up to find the angel frowning at him, a grumpy pout on his lips. Dean shrugged, using a finger and thumb to align the barbs and held it up. “It’s straight and tight, would make good fletching for arrows. The calamus is big and strong, so it would also make a pretty good quill. Considering the fluffy bit at the bottom, I recon your down would make for a comfortable pillow too.” Dean shrugged again, smirking slightly at the angel who’s frown had only deepened as Dean effectively compared him to a duck or a pigeon. 

The angel rolled his eyes, nose crinkled in dissatisfaction. “I doubt those who weave them in their hair do so for their practical use.”

Dean snickered, snagging a piece of cheese from the tray. “Oh. Yeah that’s just weird. How’s the pup doing?”

“He took milk from Ramsey but he doesn’t like the cow’s milk. He is too young to start on solids yet. I do not know what other options he has. The litter is too big, Ramsey can’t nurture him. If he does not drink he will die.”

The angel sighed, putting the cloth down. The blue eyes flicked up and met Dean’s green. The human couldn’t help but notice the genuine sadness in the angel’s expression. “Get me the box and warmed pan. Do you have a name? Or shall I continue calling you human?”

“Dean, and you know for a minute there you didn’t sound like a complete asshole. Well done.” Dispite his grousing, Dean still shifted to put the warming pan from the fire in a wicker basket before lining it with several of the blankets lying on the rug. 

The angel rolled his eyes at Dean, as he replied, “I find it ironic you complain about me being rude when earlier today you summoned me out of my bath. It wouldn’t even have been a problem if it was not for my wing. I had to walk all the way back, and do you have any idea how tiresome that is.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes, “Oh boohoo. You must be exhausted.”

The angel snorted, shaking his head as he carefully arranged the blankets into a nest and settled the puppy into the middle. “I can’t decide if you’re incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”

Dean shrugged a little, watching the angel as he settled the basket by the fire and rose gracefully to his feet, the wings stretching and flapping slightly before folding into place against his back. The motion had released several more feathers to drift lazily in his wake as he moved towards the chair he had been sitting on the first time Dean came to these rooms. The angel seemed to be losing a lot of feathers, but Dean doubted a comment would be welcome. 

“Sit. I refuse to shout across the room because you want to sit in front of the fire like a dog.” 

Dean jolted out of his thoughts with a shout of outrage. “Fuck you man! You’re the one who was sat by the fire, you told me to sit next to you!”

“As interesting an offer as that might be, you’re really not my type.” The comment was soft and dry but the smirk on the other man’s face told Dean he knew exactly what effect that comment would have on the human. 

“Oh god! I can’t believe for a second there I almost liked you.” 

“Lucifer is fine. Now, please sit. I hate to repeat myself.”

Dean glared again, but reminded himself of his goal and slowly sat at the spare chair next to the angel. “Why am I here?”

The man waver the question away with long fingers that Dean definitely did not imagine holding his hips. “My other toy got boring. Do you play? I very much doubt you can read.” 

“Toy?” Dean was trying very hard to control himself but boy did the angel make it hard.

“Yes, the delicate flower got himself all in a twist because I threw a daemon from the balcony. I mean really, a daemon of all things.”

Dean snorted, “Yeah, I can definitely get behind that, please tell me it was Meg?”

The angel laughed, shifting in his seat so that he could throw a leg over the armrest as his wings flapped to keep his balance. Dean had to duck back and to the side to avoid the wayward appendage and the cloud of feathers that got released with the motion. “Dude, seriously, what is with the feather rain?” 

The angel sighed, the laughter dying as the angel once again returned to pouting. If Dean knew him a bit better he might guess that it was embarrassment darkening the pale cheeks, but it was most likely just anger. 

“I’m in moult. The bath helped to loosen the feathers but _someone_ interrupted me before I could get around to removing them.”

“Oh.” Dean felt a little guilty, at least for his careless comment. Jo’s life was in danger; he didn’t feel guilty about saving her. “So hey, about that, what happened? Ellen said it would summon the daemons, not you.”

“Why would pressing blood on my sigil summon a daemon?”

“I... don’t know... why would it summon you?”

“Because it’s my name and infused with my grace.” The ‘duh’ was left unsaid, but it was very much implied in the tone of the angel’s words. 

“Oh-kay... But why? What do you care if someone gets hurt?”

“Oh I don’t. They are emergency summons, not hurt summons. If all the dogs got loose and were running rampant I would need to know. Speaking of, you friend could have spared herself an injury if you had simply asked me to come and get the pup in the first place.”

“Well we didn’t know that did we! How come Ramsey didn’t bite you anyway?”

“She’s my dog. Why would she want to? You ask a lot of stupid questions. My Sa...” The angel cut himself off, head swinging around to stare at the balcony and the steady thumping sound that resulted in another angel landing there. 

In the blink of an eye the angel’s whole demeanour changed, face closing off and body going stiff and tense as he glared at the new arrival, stepping through the doors. The new angel had gorgous wings in shades of silver and icey blue, settling around him like a cape. 

“Hello Lucifer.”

“I asked for Raphael to come, not you.”

“Raphael is busy. What did you do now? And why are your wings in such a state? Lucifer, we talked about this!” Even as the stranger was speaking, he crossed the room, striding confidently towards the master. Dean couldn’t help but notice how neat the new angel’s wings looked in comparison, it was hard to tell if the difference was only due to the bandages, or if there was also a difference in personality coming through. Either way, the master’s wings were nowhere near as neat.

“I’m fine Mike, leave it. I told you I wanted Raphael.” Mike did not listen at all, nor did he appear to notice Dean as he kept his sharp green eyes fixed on the blond angel, an angel who had somehow managed to leap over the back of his chair and was now backing away rapidly, wings flaring wide and back. It was a position that if Dean saw it on an eagle or owl, he would know he was about to be attacked, but the stranger didn’t look the slightest bit frightened. 

“You’re in moult? You should have told me! You know I am always willing to help.”

“I don’t need your help Mikey, stop it!”

“Lucifer you are acting like a child. Hold still and you know full well you will feel better when I’m done.”

Dean stared, jaw hanging open in shock as the new angel jumped forward. There was a moment of scuffling, wings beating the air and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Between the mixed feathers of silvery blue ice and sunrise, Dean couldn’t see what was happening, but he could guess from the noises. The fight lasted seconds, but when it ended the master, Lucifer, was face down on the bed, his immense wings spread flat to either side while the stranger straddled his back and pinned him down with his own wings. 

Dean’s curiosity got the better of him, and he carefully shifted so that he could see where Mike’s long fingers were combing through the ruffled feathers, effortlessly finding and removing the loose or broken feathers. 

“I hate you.” The words were slightly slurred and muffled by the bedding, completely lacking in any venom the blond might have been trying to impart. 

“Do you think you will ever grow up Luci? Honestly this is getting a little embarrassing for you.”

“M’not a child.” Dean could practically hear the pout and a snort of amusement escaped before he could stop himself. He immediately regretted it when those bright green eyes swung round to pin him in place. Mike didn’t look hostile, but he also didn’t scream ‘friend’.

“New pet?” For all that the angel was looking at him, Dean knew without a doubt the words were not directed his way. 

Lucifer turned his face so he could also see Dean, pushing up on his elbows to better look. “One of them. Now get off me, Mike. Dean, get the puppy.”

“Puppy? Is that why you summoned me? Go ahead and fetch it, human.” Mike made no move to get off, but he did release Dean from his gaze, turning back to regard the man still pinned underneath him. 

Dean cleared his throat, he had to obey the order and fetch the puppy still in his basket, but he didn’t show his ‘master’ respect, so he wasn’t about to show this new asshole any more. “Well guessing by your conversation a minute ago, I imagine he didn’t ask you to come at all.”

There was a low growl from the bed followed by the tight words, “I suggest you make an effort towards respect, human. I might tolerate that sort of attitude from my little brother, but do not think for a moment that extends to you.”

Dean flicked his gaze back to the blond angel, swallowing a little, but not letting any of his nerves show. “Yeah well. You want respect, I want freedom, and he wants you to get off. Seems like we all want shit we aren’t getting today.”

The blonde angel gave a burst of laughter, shoulders shaking a little as he hugged a pillow close, pressing his face into the fabric. The black haired angel looked rather less amused. He leaned back, settling his weight more firmly on his brother underneath him. Face blank as he once again examined Dean, but this time much more closely. It felt like he was peeling Dean’s skin off and examining his very soul. After a long moment while the shaking blond got himself under control, Mike finally grunted, looking at the puppy and holding a hand out. 

Dean sighed slightly as he stepped close enough to put the puppy within reach of the older angel. “His mother rejected him, but he won’t take milk.” Dean waited with baited breath as the man examined the whimpering puppy for a long moment, brows drawing together, but he touched a single finger to the downy head. A moment later he pulled back, shrugging slightly.

“It’s really more Raphael’s area of expertise.”

“That’s what I said, you dick!” Lucifer pushed himself back onto an elbow, twisting around to glare at his brother. 

Mike only smirked a little, fingers digging back into the soft feathers. They gave a little twitch, doing something Dean couldn’t quite see and like a puppet with it’s strings cut, Lucifer dropped back onto the bed with a noise Dean had never heard someone make outside of sex. 

Dean felt his face go red; the blood not quite decided if it wanted to rush up or down. He looked around desperately for something else to focus on, only to find the dark haired angel still smirking at him. “Take the animal and leave us. You will be summoned when you’re needed.”

The human did not need to be told twice. If he didn’t leave soon he was going to do something embarrassing, like pop a boner. He grabbed back the basket and the puppy, quickly retreating from the confusingly arousing sight. He was pretty sure the angels weren’t about to have sex, what with them being brothers and all, but his poor human brain also couldn’t interpret what he was seeing and hearing in any other way. He had a meeting with the rest of the group tonight, a chance to update everyone on how the plan is going and the possible changes they might need to make.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer’s breath came in rough gasps, face still pressed into the pillow. Michael was an ass. He hated him. More than he hated Gabe, and he _really_ hated Gabe. “I hate you.”

“I know, Luci. You hate it when I touch your wings and make you’re feathers all pretty and sleek. Poor baby.” Lucifer could hear the smirk in Mike’s stupid voice. Stupid Mike with his Stupid face and stupid clever fingers.

Lucifer shifted again, trying to get some relief on his aching erection as subtly as possible, considering his brother was still sat on his back. Not that Michael didn’t know exactly what a good wing grooming did to Lucifer, this was not his first time after all. 

“I am curious though, are you upset I’m touching you, or upset I sent that little pet of yours away? I could see the attraction. His looks are above average, but I know it’s that spark of spirit that really pulls you in, am I right?”

“Shut up Mike.” Lucifer had long ago given up trying to get Michael off him. This wing grooming will only end when every last feather is straight and shiny with oil. The older archangel could be a real perfectionist when it came to wings. Besides, even if Lucifer wanted to still argue and fight, there was only one part of his body that wasn’t relaxed into boneless goo.

“Or perhaps, it is neither of those facts, but rather a combination of both? The fact it is my fingers and not your pets that is the problem.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking his head a little. “No.”

Michael shifted, lifting himself off his little brother and giving him a shove to make him roll over. The backs of his wings were done, the dawn colours a glowing iridescence from the oil Mike had been massaging in. Lucifer whined slightly, his face going red as he resisted. 

“Mike no. Please?”

“Luci, you and I both know, we are not leaving a job half done, so you might as well just roll over and let me get on with it. I really don’t care if you’re horny, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Why are you like this Mike?” 

“Same reason you pull Gabe and Raphael’s feathers out when they aren’t looking. It’s in the fraternal rule book that a big brother must torment the younger. Now roll over like a good boy.” The last sentence was accompanied by a hard smack to Lucifer’s ass, leaving an oily handprint on the thin linen fabric. 

Lucifer pouted but none-the-less rolled onto his back, wings flopping down and open as he covered his hot face with an arm. He had learnt the hard way over many, many years, that Mike would always get his way in the end. Mike also felt no remorse about following through on the promise that smack had delivered if Lucifer didn’t obey. Stupid bossy Michael. 

“So, you mentioned there was more than one new pet? I assume since the one I met wasn’t the one you wanted touching your wings, there is another one more to your taste?”

Lucifer sighed, wiggling a little and twitching a wing in Michael’s direction. If he had to suffer such indignity, the least Mike could do is groom the bloody things. “His name is Sam. He’s.... he is curious and clever. Questions everything he is told or reads. And his hands, Mike!”

The older angel chuckled softly, settling his fingers into the soft feathers and getting to work grooming once more. “Why Luci, you almost sound smitten.”

“No! Not smitten. Just...” Lucifer sighed, waving a hand weakly, before letting it flop on the bed once more. “You would understand if you met him.”

“I rather doubt I would. I do not share your interest in the lesser species. But if this is what makes you happy, then I will teach your little pet to look after you properly.”

“Shut up.” The words were somewhat lost in a wide yawn, his eyes slipping shut. 

“You’re not sleeping again, are you? Lucifer this always happens! You don’t look after yourself properly, which leaves you tense and unable to sleep. I wish you would just tell me when you need someone to come and look after you. There really is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Hate you, Micha.” Lucifer mumbled softly, already most of the way asleep despite the arousal still simmering through his body. The lack of sleep the night before combined with the overuse of his grace finally catching up to him. Michael would still be there when he woke.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter as I feel bad for the long wait since last time. I should have more done by the end of the weekend. Yay? :)

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam sighed again. He was frustrated, and if he was 100% honest with himself, he was a little worried too. He had stayed in the library for hours, giving the angel space. The angel didn’t come, he didn’t get summoned to attend, no one came to check on him, it was like he didn’t exist. In the week since he was sold to Lilith, he had spent at least eight hours every day with the angel. Every day that was until Sam decided to throw a fit about something stupid and get himself kicked out.

Eventually, after already having read every book the angel had ever recommended to him in the hopes of buying back good will, Sam had finally left the library, only to find... nothing. The upper levels had never been particularly busy, everyone on this floor was hear with a purpose, but the high ranked daemons all had rooms or offices on this floor. They also had a small crowd of slaves responsible for serving them, bringing food or documents, to relay orders or to harass the other daemons in the petty power plays they all seemed to enjoy. Even after the sun has long since set there would always be people about. 

Not now. 

Sam had walked along the deserted corridor from one end to the other then back again. He hadn’t passed a soul. Even the staircase, normally a hive of activity, the life blood of the palace, had been empty. It felt like the entire palace was holding its breath for something. 

Sam was used to uncertainty in his life, first as a hunter and then later as a slave, he had never known what would happen next. He worried too, not about himself or his future, but he had worried about Dean. That was it really, never stayed in one place long enough to have other people to worry about, no friends, no lovers, nothing beyond a single night. He was worrying about the angel now though. 

It had been a long time since he took the last tray of food to the room, he could probably make an excuse to bring some more... but the angel had made his opinion clear. He didn’t want Sam around right now. 

Sam slowly returned to the library, his thoughts spiralling, the angel didn’t want him; he was going to be sold on. If today was his last day with access to lore and knowledge, he had wasted it. Spent his time looking at politics and philosophy not what might save lives. 

He should have done more, used his power and influence to find Dean or dad. Ordered the daemons to tell him... done something, anything. 

He paced a short sharp line from one wall of books to another and back again. It was his fault. Dean only got caught because of him. Dean only got caught because of him, he would have escaped on his own. It’s Sam who wastes time, develops... feelings... for angelic bastards who think all life is below them.

He was distracted by pretty blue eyes and striking pink wings, long slender fingers and the sharp flick of a sharp tongue. 

“I can’t help but wonder what would happen were you to fall through the floor.”

Sam shrieked, throwing himself backwards into a roll and coming to his feet in a crouch, a particularly hefty book held ready towards his attacker. 

The attacker was an angel is the icey blue and white wings were anything to judge by. He raised a single black eyebrow at Sam; his body was relaxed, sprawled in one of the master’s chairs, long legs stretched out front and ankles crossed. He was also casually picking his nails with a sharp looking knife and watching Sam like he was a cute but particularly dumb animal.

Sam shifted slightly to look around for other intruders without taking his eyes off the stranger, before demanding, “Who are you?” 

“Now, now. Is that how we talk to our betters?” Sam straightened up, rising to his full height and lifting his chin as he gave a look of disgust to the stranger. If Dean was here, he would call it a bitchface, but Dean wasn’t here. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never met someone ‘better’ than me. This is a restricted area, please leave.”

The man got to his feet, walking over to Sam, the knife disappearing somewhere Sam couldn’t see it. It took all of Sam’s will not to back away. It took even more will to not flinch when the angel grabbed his hand and held it close to his face, seeming to study it.

“Uhh... You really need to leave.”

“Tell me, what is the significance of your hands?”

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’m busy and you need to leave.” Sam tried to pull his hand back. He tried very hard, the other just wouldn’t let go, turning his hand over to study the palm instead. 

“I will be the first to admit I don’t understand the appeal of animals in general, but at least daemons and dogs have a purpose. What is your purpose? Other than as decoration I suppose.”

Bright green eyes rose to meet Sam’s, head tilted lightly to one side. His face gave away nothing but curiosity and still he didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. 

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” Sam was careful, enunciating each word perfectly, not letting there be any confusion. 

The angel sighed, shaking his head slowly, lips forming a small pout of disappointment. “Sam, Sam, Sam. You’re a slave. A favoured one, yes, but a slave not the less. I have a favourite chair, that does not mean I don’t sit on it. You were bought to care for my brother, to meet his needs. You are failing in that duty and I want to know why.”

With a small growl of annoyance, Sam finally managed to yank his hand free. He used every one of his 6’3” to look down on the angel. “I don’t care who you are or what you think. I might be a slave, but I am not _your_ slave. My role is between me and my master. Now if you will excuse me, I have things to do. 

The angel chuckled, not looking even a little intimidated. “He likes the spirited ones, always has. I think that’s why he tolerates the daemon scum.” 

The angel turned away, walking to one of the large floor to ceiling windows. Sam couldn’t help but assess the strong white and ice blue wings, the way they slotted together, folded neatly against the angel’s back. The tips were inches above the floor and no wider than his shoulders; a strange contrast to the messy pink wings that Lucifer boasted. Sam couldn’t tell if the difference lay in personality or to do with the injury. 

With a snap of his teeth, Sam clenched his jaws and determinedly turned away. He refused to stay here and be treated like an object. 

“Sam. I care a great deal about my brother. He can be stubborn and often this causes him harm. Normally I don’t interfere it’s not worth the fight you see. But Lucifer is hurt. If he continues to neglect his wings he could cause permanent damage. Now as much as I wish I could stay until his bone heals and the feathers regrow, it is simply not possible. I need to know I am leaving him in good hands. He chose you for this task, but if you are unable or unwilling do not for a moment think I can’t replace you.”

The words were calm and matter of fact, no sign of anger or hint of threat, just cold, hard fact. And Sam didn’t want to stay, but the thought of someone else touching his angel? “If I do it, it’s because he asked me, not you.”

“No. It is because that’s your role in life.”

Sam’s eyes slid shut briefly, it hurt, but he knew what he had to do. He walked away. If he was replaced, so be it, at least he didn’t compromise his morals.

Sam didn’t look back as he left the library, nor as he turned down the still empty stairs. Floor by floor he descended into the heart of the palace, the one place guaranteed to be busy. The kitchen. 

Just because the angel didn’t want him right now didn’t mean he couldn’t use his power while he still had it. He would ask for food and news, maybe find out more about this new angel. 

He was right; the kitchen was as busy as always, only the atmosphere was all wrong. The normally cheerful chatter was kept to an absolute minimum, where words were spoken they were barely a whisper. When Sam entered several of the slaves looked at him, eyes bright with fear before swiftly looking away once more. 

Benny himself was no where to be seen, despite the still early hour and it looked like the dinner service had already finished, everyone busy washing pots or wiping surfaces. Sam’s eyes found Charlie by one of the large sinks and he made his slow way over. “Hey. What’s with everyone? The palace is practically deserted and those who remain look completely terrified.”

Charelie gave an uneasy shrug. “I don’t really know. The daemons all upped and left though, every single one of them. Apparently they all suddenly remembered the urgent business they have in town. The lupinotuum all retreated to their rooms too, refuse to come out, while the lamia are looking around every corner. One of the kennel club told us the master’s brother was around and everyone just... vanished.”

Sam blinked, then slowly began to frown. “You mean the daemons all legged it because of one angel? He’s a bit of an ass, but I wouldn’t exactly call him terrifying.” Sam snorted a little, thinking of the angel holding his hand. Definitely weird, but hardly threatening. 

Charlie stared at him. “You met him? And lived? What did he want? What did he say?”

Sam felt his cheeks go warm, “Nothing really, he, uhh, just wanted me to groom the master.”

“please tell me you didn’t say no?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly, umm, I didn’t say yes?”

Charlie snorted, shaking her heard. “Well Sam, it was nice knowing you. I’ll miss you when you’re dead.”

“Shut up. Nothing going to happen. The master still likes me.” Sam put all the confidence he didn’t feel into the words, trying hard to convince himself as much as Charlie. 

“Yeah. We’ll see if you still think that tomorrow after you take breakfast up, because I can garuntee no one else will be willing to do it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll take the master his food, same as always, but his brother will have to fend for himself.”

“Sure Sam. And when you find them in bed together you be sure to tell him that.”

“What?”

“Rumour has it, they are _close_.”

“Whatever Charlie, I’m close with my brother too, in winter we even shared a bed sometimes. Doesn’t mean I have ever, or ever will sleep with him. Anyway, who are these kennel club you were talking about? Slaves? I don’t think I’ve met any of them.”

“Yeah. I don’treally know them to be honest. They’ve been around for a while and just seem to know all the ins and outs of the palace even though they never leave the dog pens. Appearently one of them was with the master when his brother arrived. He raised the alarm, but the daemons were already running. I’m not complaining mind, less work for me to do and everyone might even get an early night out of it.”

“Right. Well, enjoy it.” Sam hesitated a moment more, but he had already wasted so much time, he couldn’t afford to lose any more. “I... don’t suppose the next time you see the kennel club you could ask after my brother?”

Charlie gave him a sad look and a small nod. “Still no word?”

“No. I guess I know he isn’t here, he would have found me by now if he was, but I can’t help still hoping. I just... need to see him.”

Charlie nodded again, giving his upper arm a squeeze, “I’ll ask. Now go get some sleep, you look exhausted.”

“I will, thank you.”

Sam stayed only long enough to get himself some food before heading back to his room. At least wherever Dean was, he was staying out of trouble. If a slave had tried to escape and died doing it, Sam would definitely have heard about it.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	12. Chapter 12

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Benny, my man! Any chance of you clocking off early?”

The lamia raised his eyes from the pot he was stirring to fix Dean with cold eyes.

“I am not your man and I never leave a job half done. Get out of my kitchen, Azazel’s scum take their food in the messhall.”

Dean blinked in confusion before belatedly remembering that the factions didn’t get along. Dean wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen and he definitely wasn’t supposed to talk to Benny, not like they know each other, like they were friends. 

When in doubt, play it cool. “Yeah well. Bossman upstairs has company and wants your personal attention for it.”

Dean could feel the eyes of the whole kitchen watching them, waiting to find out who the new person was. 

Benny narrowed his eyes and looked Dean up and down with a frown. “Since when does the master send kennel scum to fetch his dinner?”

Dean smirked casually, shifting the basket to his hip and giving a small flick of the wrist in that direction. “Was there with the pup when his brother arrived. They are real hungry my friend, best hurry. And take enough for 7, yeah?” 

Dean winked at Benny, hoping he had managed to be subtle enough the kitchen slaves didn’t get it, but obvious enough that Benny did. He turned around, grabbing an apple as he passed and strolled back out the kitchen. 

Without an idea of what else to do, he made his way to the storeroom the normally met in. He hoped Benny would be able to get the message through to the others as he didn’t have a clue how to let them know without just trying to find them directly, and clearly that wasn’t a good way to go. 

He didn’t have to wait long before Bobby was shoving the door open. “Idjit! What did you do?”

Dean held his hands up, palms out. “I forgot okay, but me and Benny styled it out. Did it really make such a stir?”

“What are you talking about Benny? I mean why are all the daemons turning tail and running? I was in the room with Ramiel when Dagon burst in, practically hysterical and saying they had to leave.”

As Bobby spoke, the door opened again, the two guards, Jodie and Donna, slipping in and coming to sit on either side of Dean. 

“The big league are leaving to? I’ve never seen the messhall empty so quickly, I thought there was an alarm raised, but no one called me or Donna.”

“Aye, we looked around, not a deamon left! The Lupinotuum were all running too.”

The door opened again and Benny came in, pushing a wheeled cart that was often used to move heavy objects around. Dean could see and smell it was full of food and his mouth began to water as he leaned close, sniffing appreciatively.

“You better hope they don’t send for food for real or your cover will be blown.”

“Believe me, when I left food was the last thing on either of their minds. Mike might have said he was a brother, but I ain’t ever looked at Sammy like that.”

“Balls! There’s a brother here? Which one? And looked at who like what?”

“Mike, or Micha or something, I don’t know. And he was looking at Satan like he wanted to nail him to the mattress if you know what I mean.” The words came out muffled by the mouthful of food Dean didn’t bother to swallow and was accompanied by a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.”

The door opened for the final time and Ellen stepped in, giving a quick glance up and down the hall before softly shutting the door and turning to face the group.

“Benny? What’s going on? What is so important it can’t wait until tonight? It’s crazy out there!”

“Hey Ellen, How is Jo doing?” Dean needed to know, especially since the girl wasn’t with her mother and Ellen still had that tight pinched look to her face.

“She’s okay. Sleeping it off. Now what’s going on?”

“Balls! Jo got hurt too? Why didn’t you start with that ya idjit!” Bobby had tugged his ratty cap off his head and was scrunching it in one hand in frustration while he scrubbed at his slightly sweaty hair with the other. 

Ellen sighed, taking a seat in the circle. And helping herself to some of the food on the cart, the little pastry thingies were particularly good in Dean’s mind. “Ramsey gave birth this morning. She was... difficult to get away from the pups. Jo and I used some meat to lure her away while Dean went to grab the runt but she noticed before he was safe. Jo got hurt trying to hold her back.”

Everyone exclaimed, shock and horror warring with concern on their faces as they all asked if Jo is safe and that both Dean and Ellen are unhurt. “We are fine. Dean touched the summoning stone. You have one in the kitchen too don’t you Benny? We thought it would summon a daemon, Azazel or Meg or something, instead it made the angel appear.”

“Butt naked” Dean couldn’t help but interject with a grin around a mouthful of some more apple and pastry treat.

“He healed Jo’s arm, good as new, then told her to rest for a couple of days. Told Dean to help Jo back to her room and then go and see him. Took the puppy and left.”

Dean nodded his head, taking over the story. “So when I get there, he’s sitting on the floor all wrapped in his wings like some weird fucking feather cocoon. Turns out the pup won’t eat anything so he asked for some dude called Raphael to come help. Only it wasn’t Raphael that turned up. The angels had a little fight, which the boss man lost, and when I left he was face first on the bed and well on his way to a happy ending if the sounds he was making were anything to go by.”

Benny was the one to interrupt, still frowning, “What did the brother look like?”

Dean shrugged, “Like an angel. Black hair, green eyes, white and blue wings.”

Bobby thumped the box he was sitting on with a fist. “Definitely Michael then. No wander the daemons all ran.”

Donna and Jodie shared a look of confusion, looking around at the three older members of the group. “Uhh, what’s the significance of it being Michael?”

Benny sighed. “When every supernatural being in the palace starts to run, you don’t think you should be worried? Michael is the king of Aurae. He hates all the species, if you aren’t an angel then he doesn’t count you as a person at all.”

“And if you’re not a person, that it doesn’t count as murder if you die.” Ellen finished. 

“With the palace this deserted, now would be the perfect time for us to escape, there’s no one here to go bring us back.” Bobby added. “But if Michael catches us... we’re all dead.”

Dean sat up, suddenly much more interested. “Wait. We only have to escape one angel instead of thousands of daemons? Why is this a bad thing!”

Ellen scoffed, “Weren’t you listening? If we get caught we don’t get brought back, we die.”

Dean shrugged. “We stay here and we will die eventually anyway. What difference does it make?”

The rest of the group shared silent looks, no one willing to answer Dean, but their reluctance was clear. Bobby cleared his throat roughly and opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again with a shake of his head. 

“Do you even want to get free anymore? Was this all just a way to pass the time? Make plans but not follow through?”

“Jo almost died because of you!” Ellen stood up, face blazing with anger as she pointed at Dean. “Don’t you dare tell me we aren’t committed to this when we already almost lost a member!”

Dean shook his head, leaning back, “I’m sorry. I just... he didn’t seem that bad you know? Yeah he was a dick, but all the angels I’ve met so far have been. He just didn’t seem particularly interested in anything but his brother.”

Ellen deflated a little, sighing softly. “You’re young and you haven’t been here long. You’ve not seen an angel fly before. They move so quick, it’s like they can vanish from in front of your eyes and appear behind you.”

Benny nodded slowly, leaning back against the wall, arms folded over his chest, legs out stretched and watching them from under heavy lids. “I was here the last time Michael came to visit. The daemon’s were revolting, Asmodeus had made a grab for power, he had found a book... a summoning spell, a way to free monsters that even the angels were scared of. The master called for aid from his brothers, and Michael came. Alister was banished from the palace down to the deepest dungeons, and every single one of Asmodeus’ allies were executed.”

Dean licked his lips, frowning. “All of them? But I’ve heard his name around here, haven’t I?”

“Yes, both me and Donna are part of his faction.” Jodie answered quietly, glancing back at Benny. It was clear that none of the others had heard this story before, at least not from someone who was there. 

“The master spared his life. No one knows for sure why that is. But Michael killed over 200 daemons, humans and lamia without even blinking an eye. Do not mistake his disinterest for softness. He will not be made a fool of, least of all by us.”

Dean groaned. “Okay. So we go back to plan A. The puppy got me in his room. I still have the dog; he’s going to call me back again when they are... finished. I use the pup to learn more about the angel, and his plans, we carry on planning a regular escape and when I get the opportunity... I gank the feathered dick.”

“Just... Dean, be careful. If Michael is as dangerous as everyone says... Don’t make him angry, don’t give him an excuse.”

Dean snorted, “Relax mom, if he was that easy to piss off I’m pretty sure I would already be dead. I did learn one thing today.”

“And that was?” Donna asked gently. 

“Angel’s have an off switch.” Dean grinned at them all, before launching into a retelling of his afternoon with the angel in great detail, particularly about the spot Michael had touched in the master’s back that made him collapse. After all, that sort of knowledge might come in handy some time. 

And if Dean noticed the strange looks that passed between Benny and Bobby, well he didn’t comment on it. Yet.

~*~*~*~*~ 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you guys see the other chapter I just posted too? It was too short to be on it's own, but it didn't really fit with this one, so you lucky ducks are being spoilt rotten this weekend with three short chapters! :)

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer yawned into his pillow, waking slowly from possibly the best night’s sleep since he was a fledgling and still slept in a pile with his siblings. His pillow had the same smell as back then, that impossible and indescribable scent of home. Something soft was tickling his nose and he grumbled softly as he rubbed the itch, before burying his face deeper into the soft warmth. His body felt slow and heavy, somehow feeling both deeply relaxed, but also like he was forgetting something important.

Somewhere in the room he could hear a hissed argument, like the participants were trying to be quiet, but disagreed too strongly to manage it. He grumbled louder, hoping to convey his unhappiness at the disturbance without having to do anything energetic like moving his face from the pillow. 

The voices cut out and Lucifer allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction as he relaxed again. It was his educated opinion that good sleep was truly underestimated. It was a rare and valuable commodity and he planned on making full use of these snatched moments. 

If the argument resumed, Lucifer was unaware. Sleep crept back up on him, tendrils wrapping his body and covering his mind until there was nothing left but a drifting thought he was forgetting something...

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam and the angel both paused their quiet conversation at the unhappy noises coming from the bed. The blond angel settled back to sleep, the loud snores resuming and both human and angel let out a breath of relief.

“That boy can sleep through a hurricane, but the hint of a disagreement has him growling like a hibernating bear.”

Sam smiled despite himself, the brotherly exasperation in those words were too hard to miss. 

The probing green eyes returned to study Sam once more. “I don’t understand your reluctance. You clearly find him attractive and the idea of touching his wings arouses you. Why do you say no?”

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face again. The argument was going in circles, over and over again. The angel believed it was Sam’s job and he should be honoured to perform this service, while Sam got stuck on the fact he wasn’t a whore and didn’t want to be treated like one. Apparently this argument had no resolution. They simply can’t agree.

“Don’t you feel the slightest bit creepy pimping your brother out like this?”

“Firstly, everything I do is for his own good. Secondly, I am not asking you to have sec with him. In fact if you listened to my instructions instead of arguing with me, you would realise that is almost the exact opposite of what I want. Wing grooming comes first. Start to finish, because he _will_ do his best to distract you five minutes in.”

“Yeah, and you said he will distract me with sex, therefore you are telling me to have sex with him.”

They were both getting more and more frustrated as neither one of them was willing to back down. 

The dark haired angel growled softly and stalked away from Sam, towards the bed, his words spoken over his shoulder in clear dismissal of Sam. “Enough. I have no more interest in you. There is another slave better suited to the task, one who can follow orders.”

Sam remained where he was by the table, watching as the angel climbed gracefully onto the bed and manouvered himself under one of the large sprawled wings. He settled with his back to the wall and a wing in his lap as the long thing fingers immediately began to work pulling loose feathers out. There were more than the day before, bald pink skin beginning to show through around the splinted bone. 

Lucifer made a deeply contented noise from on the bed, his back arching to press more firmly against the hand on his wing as his face turned to press against the newest asshole’s leg. 

Sam stood rooted to the spot, a flash of jealousy coiling hot in his belly at the sounds of pleasure his angel was making at someone else’s hands. He hated the angel, both angels. He hated himself too. Several hard thumps to his forehead with the palm of a hand did nothing to shake the thoughts loose and with a growl of frustration he gave in and approached the bed, glare firmly in place. “Fine.”

Green eyes flicked to look at Sam with disinterest, followed by a careless shrug and a small smirk. “Too late. Go find me the slave from yesterday, the pretty one.”

“I don’t know who the pretty slave is. I said I will do it, you don’t need to be a dick about it!”

The smirk vanished and the angel’s eyes flashed dangerously as the temperature of the room noticeably rose. Sam was fairly certain the only thing stopping him from being attacked there and then was the sleeping angel.

Or the not so sleeping angel as it was. Lucifer had pushed himself up onto one elbow and his hand braced on his brother’s thigh as he looked around in confusion.

Sam knew logically speaking he should be terrified of his impending death, his life flashing before his eyes. He wasn’t though. Instead he was thinking about how adorable Lucifer looked, between the deep red crease on his left cheek, the chaotic mess of blond hair and the dried drool near the corner of his mouth. 

Sam met sleepy blue eyes, finding himself utterly caught by the bright icy blue. The spell was only broken when the angel snapped his gaze away from Sam and back to his brother. “Micha, no. I like this one.”

The words came out initially gravelly, before breaking into an odd squeak, vocal cords not working after so long asleep.

The other angel still had a firm hold of a fistful of feathers, his jaw clenched and a little muscle jumping as he swallowed. “I tolerate a lot, but you need to learn to control your pets, little brother, before someone gets hurt.”

Lucifer batted tiredly at the hand in his wing, attempting to pull away. “If you don’t like it, leave. In fact if you do like it, still leave.”

At least that’s what Sam guessed he said. The words got a little lost in a huge yawn and the rustling of feathers as the angel tried to free himself. 

The older angel ignored his brother completely, fixing Sam with an intent expression. “I don’t like you. If I had my way, you would cease to exist. Unfortunately, I love my brother and for reasons I fail to understand, he appears more than a little... attached... to you, and your hands.”

‘Micha’ paused, turning to frown at Lucifer who was subtly trying to squirm free, with all the grace of a bird caught in a net. The blond was looking both more awake and also deeply embarresed, the sheets tangled in his legs and free wing. A single dark brow rose and the look of combined disappointed disapproval was aimed at Lucifer, causing him to freeze, pout firmly in place. 

“But we did all this yesterday!” The words were practically whined out and Sam stared in surprise at such a childish display from the normally sophisticated angel. 

“You’re moulting. That means twice daily and I won’t leave until one of your pets prove capable, so I suggest you stop pouting and start behaving.”

“I’m not a child and I’m not pouting either! Let me go, I missed dinner and I’m hungry.” He paused, a small frown forming between blond brows, “What happened to the puppy? You didn’t fix him!”

Lucifer shoved away with much more force this time, scrambling out of bed even though it meant leaving a handful of feathers behind. 

“Relax. I gave him a boost to his immune system and a kick-start to his growth. He will have slept as long as you did. Raphael recommended a fat rich milk and a special teat, they sent a flyer last night and I made sure your spare pet got both. Now come back to bed. You can’t pull so many feathers out at once without causing damage.”

“I can’t pull them out? You were the one who pulled them out! You and your need to always be right and always be in charge. I didn’t leave Aurae because of dad, but because of you Mike. Right or wrong, it’s my choice to make, not yours.”

“Luci...”

“No! You weren’t this interested my last moult, or the one before that. You just can’t bear the thought I don’t need you, well sorry Mike, but I don’t!”

The dark haired angel looked pained by this, turning his face away and for the first time since meeting him, Sam watched the blue and white wings pull in protectively. It made Sam feel like an intruder, but it also felt familiar, an argument he had had with Dean many times since their dad disappeared. 

Michael closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh before nodding and rising from the bed with significantly more dignity than his little brother had managed. “I am sorry you feel that was Lucifer, I will respect your wishes and leave. My apologies Sam, it seems I will be unable to teach you proper wing – etiquette. Although it would also seem I was mistaken in believing my brother was interested, so it seems it is all for the good.”

The angel crossed the room on silent feet and Sam turned to look at Lucifer. He was more than a little surprised to see the blue eyes shut and long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “You bastard.” The words were more of a flavoured exhale than true speech, followed by a much louder, “I need verbal consent Sam.”

“What?” Sam looked from Lucifer to Micha and back again. The older angel had stopped but remained with his back towards them. 

“I need you to tell me you are doing this of your own free will and not because you feel you have to.”

“Oh.” Sam swallowed hard, he could see how tense both men were, waiting for Sam’s answer, even if neither looked at him. He had already decided though, this step was easy. “Yes. I want to groom your wings, and while I don’t like it, I think your brother is the best person to teach me. But this doesn’t mean we are having sex, not yet at least.”

Sam watched as this declaration caused a flicker of disappointment before the angel nodded, agreeing to Sam’s terms. 

The other angel who had been more or less forgotten by both Sam and Lucifer clapped his hands together and declared, “Excellent. Go lie down Lucifer.”

“No. I’m hungry and you can show him how to groom me sitting as easily as lying. I have things to do and can’t spend all day sleeping.”

“What things? There are no daemons left here and most of the slaves are lying low. Why they are all so convinced I care, I have no idea. As if I have the time to waste on your little mud monkeys.”

Sam glared. “You seemed to have more than enough time yesterday when you cornered me in the library and then proceeded to molest me.”

Lucifer’s head snapped around, eyebrows rising and a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. By contrast Micha waved a hand in Sam’s direction. “Completely different. You had a use.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes at Sam’s spluttering, resuming his steps towards the table and taking his usual seat. “As amusing as your impersonation of a fish is, at least try not to act like the monkey he accuses you of being.”

Great. The angel was fully awake and apparently back to being a prickly asshole again. Sam felt like he had been tricked, but it was too late to change his mind now. At least he was allowed to touch those wings now. 

What followed was quite possibly, the most intense anatomy lesson of Sam’s life, as Michael proceeded to show and explain each part of a feather and what feathers could be found where. He also explained the shape and structure of the wing, pointing out the different bones and the joints, demonstrating how they fold and flex and where the itchiest spots could be found. Throughout the whole lesson, Lucifer complained and bitched, wings twitching and tugging away, flapping at the most irritating moments and seeming to almost deliberately hit Sam in the face on multiple occasions. 

Sam was almost certain the only reason the angel stayed still for it at all, was because of Michael’s regular whacks to the back of the head when he wriggled too much. He couldn’t help but think that if this was going to be a twice daily experience, he would need to invest in some good quality ropes...

~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw... I start to get the feeling I might need to add a voyeur!Mike tag... anyone else getting that vibe too? *snickers*


	14. Chapter 14

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lucifer refused point blank to admit just how affected by the torture currently being inflicted on his back and wings, he really was. He doubted he was successful considering the smirk on stupid Michael’s smug face. The older angel had simply sat himself down on the table in front and to one side of Lucifer, giving him the perfect view to look over the blonde’s shoulder at where Sam was working. It also gave him a clear view of Luci’s blown pupils and flushed face.

Michael had been only too happy to explain the nature of angel wings in great detail to the curious human. Lucifer had been reduced to little more than a living breathing text book for Sam to study from. It was both embarrassing and oddly freeing. He didn’t need to be a part of the conversation, remain witty or intelligent. He just had to sit still and let the other two work as the past week’s worth of frustration and arousal flooded back with a vengeance. 

And since Michael was such an ass, he obviously knew just what a state Lucifer was in. Nothing he said would convince him the constant brush of his foot on Luci’s aching groin was anything but deliberate. The first time? Maybe, but after five or six? And the way he would leave his foot there a little too long, press a little too hard? Like he was just daring Lucifer to hump his foot. He would already need to change his pants before he could appear in public. The constant pressure was too little to make him cum, but just enough to keep him right there on the edge, drooling a mess of precum onto his hip and thigh. 

And Lucifer had been right. Sam’s fingers were magic. He had a way of digging his nails and ever so slightly scratching at the delicate skin underneath. It took every inch of self control that Lucifer possessed not to either moan like a needy whore or sweep his breakfast and Mike both off the table and throw Sam down on it instead. 

The only consolation he had was that Mike hadn’t shown Sam his oil glands. Yet. Lucifer had no doubt that Michael was just biding his time with that particular treat. 

The blunt nails found a particularly sensitive spot and Lucifer was reacting before he could stop himself, his wing flapping as his back arched, pushing further into the touch, his head dropping until he could bite hard on Mike’s knee to muffle the wail of need. The shudder ran down every inch of his body and his cock twitched hard, letting out another spurt of precum as he gave in, pressing a palm down hard to give just a little blessed relief.

He could hear Michael chuckle above his head as long fingers found the top of his head. “Oh, he liked that one.”

Sam gave an awkward laugh from behind his back, “Are all angel’s this sensitive?”

“Yes.”  
“No.”

Lucifer tilted his head enough to glare weakly up at Mike, who ruffled his hair like the condescending prick he was. “No. While most angels find having their wings groomed a very pleasurable experience. For possibly as high as half of all angels, it is even a sexual pleasure they feel, but Lucifer is very much in a league of his own.”

“Shut up Mike.” Lucifer tried to growl the words, but Sam had scratched that spot again so it came out more as a moan quickly cut off by another bite to Mike’s knee. With any luck the bastard would have bruises all over his leg. Would serve him right. 

“Right, good to know. I guess that’s why you hate it when the daemons touch you?” Sam was mostly musing aloud, but Lucifer always believed in positive re-enforcement for good behaviour. 

“Yes.”

“So why me?”

The wing grooming paused as Sam asked his question and Lucifer would have turned to look if Michael hadn’t been gently stroking his hair like he used to when Luci got hurt or sick as a fledgling. 

“If I had to make a guess based on my knowledge of my brother, I would imagine it has a lot to do with your intelligence, curiosity and ability to argue with him. That and your hands.” Michael’s voice was warm and amused, like he was genuinely happy about the way things were going. 

Lucifer groaned, flaring his wings out and flapping and shaking them, causing little drops of oil to fly off, but also dislodging many of the loose feathers and helping the rest to settle down. “Okay, enough! I have things to do! Mike you’ve proved your point you may leave now.”

It was a struggle to force himself to his feet, to move away from Sam’s clever hands and Michael’s gentle affection, over to the window. He wanted to fly, to burn off his arousal and agitation both. He felt weak and out of control, like Mike was pulling his strings like he always did.

There were whispered words in the background and then strong arms and even stronger wings wrapped around him from behind. “I’m sorry. I want you to be happy, but I know sometimes I cross a line.” The words were breathed directly into his ear and followed by a kiss to his temple. No more words were said, just a blanket of warmth and the smell of home around him. 

Lucifer leaned back into the support offered by his brother. It didn’t matter that he was slightly taller, he still felt tiny when wrapped up in the white and ice blue of the huge wings. “Sam left?”

“Yes. He was heading to the library, but I rather suspect he will need to take care of a shared problem first.”

“What problem?”

Mike’s long fingers slipped under the protective barrier of Lucifer’s wings to grab his still painfully hard cock and give it a firm squeeze, as his chin came to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder to look out at the view too. “You really want me to leave?”

“Why are you really here? Not because Raphael was busy.”

“Yes, but mostly because I miss you. You’re right, I haven’t been around as much as I would like to be, but you also never come to me either. The weather is changing; the storm is likely to last at least three days. It’s your choice Luci.” 

Lucifer shook his head and shoved his way free of the confining embrace, turning to give Mike a quick kiss on the cheek. “Go sort your kingdom out, Micha, you know they will be missing you already.”

Mike smirked easily, pressing their foreheads together as their wings stroked over each other, feathers sliding together in a gentle glide. “I will. Do us all a favour and go give yourself a little love while I’m gone. You’ll be in a much better mood and make all our lives easier.”

Lucifer snorted, his face getting even hotter as he gave him a whack on the shoulder. He didn’t really have a choice though; his erection hadn’t gone down even a little in the time since Sam stopped touching him. This problem wouldn’t go away on its own and he really couldn’t walk around the palace tenting his trousers like he currently is.

~*~*~*~*~ 

“It’s time for you to leave Sam, unless you were lying about your unwillingness to have sex with my brother.”

Sam licked his lips, looking at the tense back and shining wings of the angel by the window. He shook his head slowly as he turned to look back at the dark haired angel. “No. I stick by my principles, but I wasn’t done?”

“It’s fine, this time. Go. We will continue the lesson later.” 

Sam dragged a hand through his hair, but didn’t argue. He sent a final look at the master’s back, watching as Michael wrapped arms and wings around him before he quietly left. The first thing he needed to do was take care of his own needs. 

Lucifer was not the only one deeply affected by the process of grooming wings. The sounds he made went straight to Sam’s cock and had him aching and hard in seconds. He had been trying so hard to keep his noises quiet as well. A throb of arousal went through Sam’s body at the thought of the angel not holding back those sounds. 

The door to his room shut with a click and Sam quickly pressed his back against the hard wooden surface as he fumbled with the laces on his trousers. Seconds later he had one still oily hand wrapped around his erection and the other cupping his balls, as he let his eyes slide shut. Before his mind’s eye, he was back in the angel’s room, the master lying splayed on the bed, arms, legs and wings all spread and tied to the bed to keep him from moving too much, while Sam sat straddled on his thighs. 

Lucifer was moaning underneath him, hips rolling in a steady motion as he sought friction from the bedding beneath him, the motion causing Sam’s cock to slide between the angel’s ass cheeks. He groaned, letting his nails scratch over the taunt muscles, before grabbing the flesh and spreading him open to examine the wet and shiny hole he had already spent hours stretching with oil slicked fingers. The angel moaned again, back arching to lift his ass as much as he could considering the way he was tied. 

“Shhh, it’s okay Luci, I’ll look after you. Just relax. You’ve been such a good boy for me, letting me groom your wings until they were all soft and shiny. I’ll look after you in this too. I promise.”

“Yes, Sam, please. I’ll be good.”

“I know you will.” Sam shifted himself until he could lie between the spread legs and stretched over the angels’ back. The feathers were tickling on his chest, and this close the scent of frost and snow that came from the wings was much clearer, the new position also allowed his hard cock to slid down the angels crack. He rolled his hips a couple of times, feeling the wonderful friction drag on his cock as he humped. 

“Please, Sam, please. Do it. I’ll be good. Sam.” The angel’s moans were barely coherent, hips jerking desperately causing his hole to just catch at Sam’s cock. They both moaned and Sam’s patience was gone as he shifted to hold the angel open for him and guide his cock into the waiting hole.

One slow roll of his hips and he was fully sheathed inside the hot tight body, both of them groaning in unison. Sam waited a panting moment while they both adjusted to the feel, before he got his knees underneath him, changing the angle and began to move. He set a pace of steady thrusts that dragged over the angel’s prostate with each motion as Lucifer became a panting mess beneath him, reduced to incoherent begging and sobbing breaths. 

As the pressure built and Sam got closer and closer to orgasm, he spread his fingers into the trembling wings and dragged his nails over the sensitive skin beneath. Lucifer screamed, body grinding hard into the bed before bucking hard back onto Sam’s cock, his body clenching tight as pleasure ripped through him. The sudden vice around Sam’s cock was enough to drag his own orgasm out of him, milking him through it as he release string after string of cum. 

Sam shuddered, knees feeling weak in the wake of his orgasm. He let the door hold his whole wait as he panted and let his heart return to normal. His hand was a sticky mess and he needed a new shirt, what with the cum now drying on it. He felt dirty as well, like he was taking advantage of the angel. He was the master. Sam would never be allowed to tie him to the bed like that. And the angel would definitely never beg. It was nothing but a fantasy. 

After a few moments, Sam forced his eyes open and himself away from the door. He needed to wash and change, grab some food from the kitchen and get himself to the library in time to pretend he hadn’t just got off to inappropriate thoughts of the angel.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Half an hour later, and Lucifer’s mood had significantly improved. If Michael asked, he would flat out deny he took his advice, but it had definitely helped. He had also changed into clean trousers, soft leather shoes and an equally soft leather vest that left his arms and wings free. He was wearing all black, which helped to show off the sunrise glow of his sleek and shining wings. He looked good, even with the splint on his injured wing and the growing bald spot in his feathers.

He doubted Michael had lied about the daemons fleeing. It was all for the good really, he didn’t like dealing with people when he was in moult and if they weren’t in the palace they couldn’t cause trouble while he was being unsociable.

Once he was sure he was presentable for the general population once more, he released his grace and let it spread out through the threads and air currents of the palace, reaching out and letting it just barely touch on the souls and lives still within his walls. Michael hadn’t lied. The daemons were all gone, the lupinotuum gathered in small family groups and the lamia mostly lying low also. The human slaves were continuing as before due to a lack of anything else to do. For now all was calm and settled. He let his senses come back, now searching for one soul only. The bright glow of anger and resentment mixed with a fiery passion and determination. 

There. His ‘spare pet’ as Mike called him was currently sitting in one of the slave rooms with several other humans and a lamia. Interesting, but the pup was also there and that was his main interest. With his wing still not fit for flying and his grace a tired ache in the back of his skull, he had no choice but to walk to the room the human was in, but it would give him time to find an obedient slave and point them in the direction of his rooms, which were in desperate need of a clean, as well as another slave to tidy a spare bedroom for Mike. 

When Lucifer arrived at the door to the slave barracks where he knew Dean was, he didn’t bother to knock. It was his palace, technically everything within these walls belonged to him. The occupants of the room all jumped, looking around and making various sounds of surprise and shock as he walked in. He recognised Dean and Benny of course, and the only man looked vaguely familiar, maybe a senior slave? There were also the two women from the dog pens, but he had never seen either of the other women before. 

“Don’t mind me. I just came for the puppy.”

“Dude, you could have sent a slave.” Dean was the only one who didn’t seem to be panicking, and that was interesting, what could the seven slaves possibly have been discussing to make them so nervous of him?

“Debatable, what with the sudden lack of daemons running around. Did you get the teat and milk?”

“Yeah, some feathered asshole dropped it off last night. Looked like he had stepped in something disgusting the whole time.” Dean snorted a little and leaned back from where he was sitting on one of the bunk beds and tugged the little woven basket closer. “The pup seemed to like it at least, he’s mostly been sleeping.”

Lucifer stepped a little closer, his wings lifting slightly to avoid touching the various legs spread by the occupants of the room. The pups’ head lifted tiny nose twitching as he scented, eyes squeezed shut tight. He began to make the little whining noise, tiny body wiggling as he still didn’t have the strength to get up, but he wanted to at least try. 

A single finger reached out to touch the tiny fuzzy head, right between the tiny flopped over ears, he couldn’t help but to make a gentle cooing sound as the tiny pink tongue rasped over the pad of his finger. He could feel every eye in the room on him, but they didn’t matter. A single eyebrow rose as he tilted his head to look at Dean. “You’ve done well.”

Dean shrugged, watching with a strange look on his face. “Yeah well, the little guy isn’t so bad. I take it you got your happy ending? You seem in a much better mood now then you did last night. And your wings look fucking awesome.”

A hand reached out, fingers just barely brushing the arch of a wing before Lucifer managed to snap them back out of reach. “I have no idea what you’re talking about and if you ever try to touch my wing without permission again I will remove your hand.”

The human let out a laugh, holding his hands palm up and close to his chest. “Woah, okay than. No happy ending for you! Damn, I could have swore he was seconds away from nailing you.”

Lucifer glared at the irritating human, carefully cupping the puppy in his hands as he lifted him up to give a proper inspection. “I fail to see why you feel the need to be so crude. Michael is my brother, he saw my wings were in need of grooming and offered his assistance, that’s all there is too it.”

“Yeah, and I’m still a virgin. I’m not judging, what two consenting adults do in their spare time is their business not mine, but seriously, no one who got laid last night should be this pissy. Unless...” Dean’s eyes had lit up, as though he just figured something funny out. “Unless he didn’t let you cum because you weren’t a good boy!”

If Lucifer hadn’t been cradling the newborn puppy in his hands he would have smacked the cackling human. As it was, he drew himself up to his maximum height, letting his wings lift and frame his body in a way he knew made himself look both more impressive and more intimidating. His chin tilted up and despite the human being on the top bunk and therefore above him, he still managed to look down his nose at the newest bane of his existence. “For your information, I fell asleep last night and was in fact in a wonderful mood until _you_ started talking. I will take the pup now and leave you to your plans. What is it this time? Revolution or escape? I should warn you, there is a three day snowstorm approaching, you might want to pack a coat.”

He was gratified to see the look of consternation on the human’s face as he scowled back at Lucifer, crossing his arms over his chest. “For your information, we are trying to find my brother.” It was a surprisingly good impression of the archangel. 

“I don’t actually care.” He placed the puppy back into his blanket nest and picked the whole basket up, turning on his heel to leave. He didn’t so much as glance at the others in the room until he reached the door, where he paused, tilting his head in Benny’s direction. “My brother will be staying with us for a short while. He can be a fussy eater and tends towards vegetarian dishes. Dean, I assume you have been informed of the pups meal regime? I expect you to come and find him when he is due his next feed.”

He left without waiting for a response, a satisfied smirk firmly in place as he heard the human spluttering behind him. As annoying as the human was, he was also fairly amusing. When Azazel returned he would make a note to ask the daemon to track down the brother. It never hurt to reward good behaviour, and if that really was the human’s biggest concern, than that’s an easy price to pay.

~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... fantasy is better then nothing?


End file.
